


Governor Ferguson said Knock You Out!

by TheCreatorOfTales



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF, Bea's husband gets called on his bullshit, Both Vera and Joan can both kick your ass seven ways from Sunday and you'd thank them, Completely AU and its fun, Debbie reverse adopts Joan and Vera as her aunties, Drinking, F/F, Fight Club - Freeform, Fluff, Found Family, Freakytits - Freeform, Happy, Harold They're Lesbians Meme, Hurt/Comfort, Imagine if Joan and Vera had met before Wentworth, Kevin is the friend we all want, Kevin is...Kevin, LITERALLY, Lesbians, Lesbians get shit done, Morally Ambiguous Joan, Morally Ambiguous Vera, Slow Burn, Soft!Joan, Soft!Vera, Swearing, There is no other way to describe Kevin, There's smut, Vera Bennett/Joan Ferguson - Freeform, Vera actually gets away from her mother, Vera gets taught to fight, Vera stops taking shit off people at her job, Vodka, Wine, erica davidson - Freeform, its fun, pre-season 2, she's like a cat, you feed her once and you can never get rid of her
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 58,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCreatorOfTales/pseuds/TheCreatorOfTales
Summary: The sudden death of Meg Jackson causes an epiphany in Vera Bennett who decides that it's time to change some things about her life, starting with the ability to defend herself adequately. This decision changes everything.Welcome to the Studio, a legitimate Fight Club that you can talk about. Bring your friends, we have lesbians that can kick your ass.Set Season 1, where Vera and Joan meet before Wentworth.Complete AU - Alternate Universe
Relationships: Vera Bennett/Joan Ferguson
Comments: 46
Kudos: 89





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Guys, Gals and Non-Binary Pals! Welcome to Governor Ferguson said Knock You Out!   
> Yes, I got the idea from the song Mama said Knock You Out. 
> 
> This is a little thing that's been spinning around in my head for a while now. It's always bugged me how Vera doesn't really know how to defend herself very well, despite being quite high up in prison management. So what if that changed? 
> 
> As always, I appreciate all the support for my stories <3  
> An update for The Governor's Wife is in the works, but maybe some more mojo will come to me now this little idea has been put to paper to make some space in my brain. 
> 
> Thanks lovelies!

Meg was dead. Will was in pieces and it had fallen on her to be the Acting Deputy until a new one could be appointed. Vera was the first to admit that she was rattled with how often they seemed to be changing Governors. This wasn’t the first one killed in office either. Two Governor’s ago, there had been a Governor that had died on the floor of the yard, a plastic shiv sticking out of his neck. Vera hadn’t been there, thankfully, but these incidents kept on happening.

And it made her realise that she had no clue how to properly defend herself if someone came at her. Sure, she knew basic self defence that the prison provided training for, but that was it. She sat in her car, parked in a space and looked at the looming studio in front of her. She’d done a few internet searches to find this place, it offered training in fencing, different fighting styles, boxing and oddly enough, dance classes. She expected it to be mostly filled with men, which made her a little uneasy, but she needed to do this. She didn’t want to be nervous walking around Wentworth, jumping at every shadow because she couldn’t handle whatever was thrown at her. Her nervous manner was also not effective at dealing with unruly prisoners. How could she be taken seriously as the Deputy by both the inmates and the staff if she was treading on eggshells constantly?

She was tired of being weak. Of being the one that needed to be protected. Hell, even Linda could land a decent punch if she needed to be able to get away from an inmate. She was aware that it would be hell for the first couple of weeks, or even months. Knowing that she would be getting used to new moves and routines and probably being slammed to the floor in the process. But she was determined. She was sick of the way her life was going. Her mother had been speechless when she’d called her to let her know she wouldn’t be home until late, and when Rita Bennett had tried to make her feel guilty so that she’d come home, Vera had simply told her that she didn’t care what she felt. She made a mental note to look at apartments for rent when she got home. She’d managed to save quite a lot, since she was still living with her mother, but the deputy turned acting Governor thought that if she lived there for much longer, she’d end up smothering Rita Bennett in her sleep for some peace and quiet.

She sighed to herself, found some nerve, and grabbed her purse. She was going in with the intent of setting up a membership so she could make sure that she’d go. She made her way to the reception, breathing a sigh of relief seeing it was half empty at nearly 7:30pm. Sitting behind the desk was the most heavily tattooed and muscled man Vera had ever seen. He was on the phone, gesturing and very nearly shouting. He slammed the phone down in disgust, and then turned and noticed her standing there. His face lit up with a big, friendly smile and welcomed her.

“How can we help you, darling?” He spoke with a lisp, which funnily enough, made Vera more at ease. It was his tone that made her really relax a bit more though. It was like he knew that she was already nervous to be here and was trying to make her feel a bit more at ease.

“Hi, I’m looking at setting up a membership?” Vera explained what she wanted in terms of what she wanted to learn, and the man, who had introduced himself as Kevin, leaned back in his chair with a contemplative look on his face.

“Hm…I would suggest you take the membership for $35 a month, its our more expensive one, but its gives you access to literally everything, including the saunas and hot tubs to soak in after a session too, unlimited. Which are awesome, in my personal opinion.” He gestured flamboyantly, spreading his arms wide at the suggestion of hot tubs and saunas, making Vera smile. He turned his computer screen to show her the comparisons between paying each time or just having a full time membership. She did agree, it seemed a better deal. “Plus, you want to learn a mix of stuff, so you can go through the types of classes and find one that really meshes with you. Just from looking at you though, I would suggest our Fighting Dirty class.” The responding look on her face must have shouted her reaction because he laughed. “It’s not as bad as you think. Its about being able to recognise weaknesses in others in a fight, and knowing what your advantages are and how to use them effectively. You’re quite petite, darl, so you can probably reach places quicker than others.” He looked curiously at the Wentworth insignia on her uniform jacket. “You know, we’ve got another prison worker that comes here too. I don’t think she’s Wentworth though, the logo is different.”

The main door opened and a tall woman walked in, with black hair that reached her shoulders, and a gym bag held in one hand. Vera noticed that their uniforms were very similar, except that this woman wore tailored trousers, and the blazer highlighted her waist. She was undoing the buttons with one hand as she entered though, likely to remove it. Vera hadn’t thought to get her own uniform tailored, so felt like she was wearing a sack when she compared herself to the Amazon-esque woman before her.

“Ah, speak of the devil and she will appear! Joanie!” The woman looked up, raising a dark eyebrow at what Kevin called her. She took off the blazer in one smooth motion, folding it over the strap of her bag. She came closer and swiped her membership card and signed the fire register that the man handed to her automatically. Obviously, she came here a lot.

“What have I told you about calling me that terrible nickname, Kevin?”

_Oh, her voice._

“What, the Devil or the Joanie?”

She smirks at him, and he just grins at her in return, looking the very picture of innocence. The pair are obviously used to the banter between them, no offence given or taken by either party.

“I was just saying to our lovely newcomer, that you work at a prison like she does.” Kevin motions to Vera, causing the woman to put her bag on the floor, let her black jacket hang over her arm and offered her hand for a handshake.

“Joan Ferguson, Governor of Bahnhurst Prison.” She smiled reassuringly at the shorter woman. Vera smiled in return and offered her own hand, shaking it firmly. “Please, call me Joan.”

“Vera Bennett, Deputy Governor of Wentworth.” Joan’s eyebrows raised when she heard the name of the prison Vera worked at. “I’m Vera, outside of work though.”

“Wentworth? I was sorry to hear what happened to Meg Jackson recently. It’s a shame.” Vera nodded in thanks. “Are you currently the acting Governor whilst they try to find another one?” she asked, tilting her head, dark eyes looking at her curiously. “That can’t be easy. They probably expect you to do her job and yours at the same time.” Vera nodded, realising with a jolt that within five minutes of meeting her Joan Ferguson had realised what stress Vera was now under and perfectly understood the demands of the job.

Joan reached down to pick up her bag and looked at her. 

“I’d start by observing one of the classes first, see if you like the look of it. Kevin loves to brag that they’re all great, but some people fit better to certain types of fighting styles. Find what works for you.” She offered a final, reassuring smile. “Don’t be put off by it here though. They’ll put you through your paces, but you’ll come out the other side better than ever.”

She waved and offered her goodbyes and walked with a purposeful stride down the hallway to the women’s changing room, heels clicking authoritatively as she went. Vera looked back at Kevin, in awe of the woman.

“Yep, I was the same when I first met her.” Kevin said. “I started here about three years ago, and I was terrible. Couldn’t fit into any style at all. Then she catches me after one lesson, says that she’s never seen such shitty fighting and that I’m going to meet her after her shift in one of the studios.” Vera hung onto his every word. “She kicked my ass seven ways to Sunday, and then she taught me how to fight dirty. She was the inspiration behind our Fighting Dirty classes. She’s never helped another person since. But then she says she’s never seen somebody that needed tough love as bad as me! You should see her fencing, she’s bloody quick!” He laughed, which made Vera join in.

Deciding to set up the membership anyway, she got the times for the Fighting Dirty classes and for the times when she could hire out a studio for one to one sparring.

She waved to Kevin as she left, stating that she would see him the next evening and went home, feeling happier about the future than she had in a long time.

She was there, on the dot for the Fighting Dirty class at 7pm the following evening. They started at the complete beginning and by the end, she’d been thrown onto mats, over shoulders and under people. She was sore, and would likely be bruised the next day but she enjoyed every second. The instructor went round after the class, checking on each person and reassuring them that they would improve with time and practice.

________________________________________________________

So Vera came back. Ignoring her mother’s manipulations to please stay home with her, she went to the Studio nearly every night. And if she had a night shift, she’d go during the day. In the end, she stuck with the Fighting Dirty classes, Krav Maga and a style that looked like it belonged in a cage fight. Vera would be the first to admit that being able to take someone twice her size down by wrapping her thighs around their head to drag them to the floor felt amazing and boosted her confidence immeasurably.

She took to dancing like a fish to water and found her own clumsiness fading as a result. She began to resent her mother more than ever before for keeping her from experiencing this type of thing when she was child. She began to feel herself hardening both in muscle and empathy.

Her mother’s taunts began to sting less. Her pleas didn’t affect her as much anymore. Inmates found that she was more likely to pull them up on bad behaviour, and that she couldn’t be manipulated anymore. Equally, the other officers noticed that she was becoming firmer, not willing to involve herself in work gossip or to allow Fletcher to flirt. Within a month, the deputy of Wentworth had found a lovely new apartment, nearer to her work, with a balcony, plenty of space and large windows. She’d moved in as soon as possible, leaving her mother behind in her childhood home to stew over the fact that Vera wasn’t willing to be her victim anymore. Soon the apartment looked and felt like home, the curly haired woman expanding on her décor tastes, and finding that she rather enjoyed living on her own. A weight lifted from her shoulders from being able to be the one in charge, not her mother or anyone else.

She was developing muscles. She noticed one day in the mirror as she was getting into the shower and realised the definition growing in her biceps and her thighs. Her flexibility was also improving, due to the yoga stretches she made sure to do each evening. She’d started being unable to spread her legs into a split, after a month and a half she was able to land in a split with zero pain and could bend over backwards and walk on her hands. It was an impressive move, however she kept her new skills away from work for now, understanding that once people knew she could move and react in such a way, she’d stop being underestimated. Her observation skills improved as part of the lessons included watching for what other people might do in any given situation. Vera felt better than she ever had before.

It was nearly two months before she saw Joan Ferguson again. The two women seemed to miss each other by minutes, but Kevin kept each woman updated on how the other was doing.

She’d had the worst day at work, every inmate wanted to push her buttons, as well as every officer it seemed. Will Jackson had insisted on coming back to work, but in all honesty, Vera didn’t think him ready. When he’d lost his temper after she stated her opinon, she’d surprised the both of them by standing toe to toe with him, without thinking twice. Previously she would have tried to calm him down and placate him. This time, Vera had gotten into his face in the same way that he had, and told him that she was still his superior, no matter how much he was grieving and that he wouldn’t be coming back to work until his six months were up. He’d slunk out of her office, unused to this newer, harder Vera. Then Channing, the smarmy bastard had announced they’d found a new governor, without so much as a warning for Vera that this was happening. Or a thanks for the extra work she’d done for the past three months. So she’d left at the end of her shift in a temper, anger and resentment building as she drove towards the Studio.

She pulled into the carpark, and quickly grabbed her bag and went inside. Reaching over to give a one-armed hug to Kevin, she put the bag down to scan her card and sign the fire register and automatically and naturally as the Governor of Bahnhurst had the first time she met her.

“Kev, please tell me there’s a spare studio. I feel like I need to kick the shit out of something.” She leaned on the reception desk and put her head in her hands.

“Oh darl, shitty day?” Kevin was sympathetic. He knew from past experience with Joan that a particularly bad day ended in broken sparring dummies and a lot of swearing. He found it funny that on their first impressions, both women came across as ladylike and proper within their roles, however both Joan and Vera swore like sailors when getting rid of frustration in an empty studio with pumping music.

“The absolute shittiest.”

He checked the system, face falling as all the rooms appeared to be booked. “I’m sorry Vee, but they’re all booked up.”

Vera groaned quietly into her hand, then tried to think on the positive side. She could always just use the sauna and hot tubs to chill out a bit, instead.

“What’s this about needing to kick the shit out of something?” Joan’s face came from behind her, a soft smile on her face. She was wearing workout leggings, a sports bra and a strap top and Vera thought she looked incredible. The clothes highlighted the muscle definition in her arms and legs and showed her strength. Her hair was plaited back, out of the way, and her bag hung over her arm.

“Hi Joan! How are you?” Vera greeted her, her smile only slightly strained. Joan recognised the look. This was a woman who was one incident away from either having a breakdown or fighting everyone and everything that was put in front of her.

“I’m good, thank you. Bad day?” Joan was particularly sympathetic.

“The worst.” The slump in Vera’s shoulders spoke louder than anything her voice could have said. Kevin and Joan’s eyes met in understanding and Joan decided to do something she didn’t usually do. She decided to be nice.

“I’ve got a studio booked, I planned on practicing some moves, but I find after the day I’ve had I need a proper sparring partner. Share with me?” Joan turned to Vera who was looking at her in shock at the offer.

“I don’t know if I’m any good for you, I’ve not really sparred with another person before.” The nervousness in Vera’s voice was back and she hated it. Nearly three months of coming and she’d grown in leaps and bounds in her confidence and how she held herself. It just seemed that every so often, the nervous old Vera would come back.

“Ah, I’ve seen you through the windows, throwing your instructor around when you go to classes. If nothing else, you can practice on a person you’re unfamiliar with. Think of it as real life practice.” Joan reached forward and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. Vera found herself nodding and agreeing to the plan, following behind Joan to the changing rooms, Kevin calling behind them that he would see them later.

The pair stood facing each other, the floors covered in mats to break any falls, and a speaker in the corner if anyone wanted music.

“Is there anything in particular you wanted to practice or do you just want to go for it and see how it goes?” Joan offered the choice to Vera. She was interested in seeing how she’d improved after three months, according to Kevin she was here nearly every night. Joan was similar, but she’d be honest and say she came here to let off steam. Not many people understood the lives of Prison Officers in particular, and Joan herself would admit she was a person who liked things to be just so. Perhaps it would be good to build a friendship with Vera. For a decent sparring partner, if nothing else.

Vera thought about it. “Let’s try just going for it to begin with and go from there.” She smiled at Joan’s answering grin, bouncing on her toes. Vera thought that she’d picked up a lot from the lessons, enough that a majority of it became muscle memory, but she did think that Joan would end up wiping the floor with her.

The older woman struck like a viper, whipping her leg out to sweep Vera to the floor.

Vera stepped back to avoid it, bringing her leg up to catch Joan in the side to push her over. She was surprised though when the taller woman caught her calf under her arm and used her body weight to push against it to bring Vera to the floor in a thump. Once Vera was flat on her back, Joan let go, and moved back a bit to give her some room.

“That was so good!” She exclaimed as she sat up, eyes glittering in the studio lights. Joan reached down to offer her a hand, which Vera took.

“Watch your speed on that kick to the side, if you pick up the pace on that you’d have probably not been caught by my arm.” Vera nodded at Joan’s advice, touched that she would offer ways to improve.

“Can we go again?” excitement in her tone, Joan couldn’t deny Vera, remembering what successfully sparring for the first time felt like and so they went again, Vera learning more from each spar.

Almost an hour later of nonstop movement, the two lay side by side, breathing heavily. Joan had taken her plait out, shaking the now wavy hair so that it didn’t knot. It lay fanned out around her head.

“Thank you for tonight. It helped.” Vera’s eyes are closed, but she knows Joan is grinning, she can hear the smile when she speaks.

“You’ve picked up a lot, and a lot of it comes as instinct to you which will only help you to protect yourself. I’m happy to spar with you at any time, the more times you spar against someone that isn’t in your class, the more experience you get with fight patterns.” Joan looked over to her, smiling as she gestured her point with her hands. “And you did much better than Kevin the first time I sparred with him. You managed to pin me three separate times. I practically just threw him about the room to get my point across that he needed to move more if he wanted to actually improve.”

Vera laughed out loud at the image she presented, the noise echoing around the studio. The two stayed on the floor, the conversation between them flowing as they spoke about their respective work, and the challenges each woman faced on a daily basis. Vera spoke of her annoyance at being overlooked without so much as a thank you by Channing, whilst Joan explained how drugs were being found in her cells all over again, much to her annoyance. Eventually, the two spoke of more personal topics, Vera explaining how she’d found her apartment and was enjoying the process of making it her home. As the curly haired deputy spoke of the layout of her apartment, it seemed particularly familiar to Joan.

“Are you living in the apartment building with the huge windows and the balconies on Dorcas Street, by any chance?” She asked, making Vera open her eyes and look over to her, nodding with a smile.

“Yes, opposite the park. Why?”

“I live there, I’m on the 12th floor.”

Vera blinked at her, grinning. “Well isn’t it a small world? I’ve only just moved in, but I’m on the 8th floor.”

Joan returned her grin. Small world, indeed. There was something about the woman that interested her and caught her attention. Perhaps it was the fact that she worked in corrections and had improved herself with an ambition to do well that Joan hadn’t seen in a woman previously. She didn’t often socialise with other people, her father had seen to it that his daughter was isolated whilst she was growing up, which led to her struggling to connect to people throughout her life. Joan recognised this, and thought it was perhaps better to stay that way, rather than try and possibly be hurt in the process.

_You did it before, and look how that turned out. Jianna._

She frowned, but quickly stopped when she noticed Vera look at her again. “We’re going to have to make a move, I think.” She sighed, Vera hoping that it was because she didn’t want to have to leave already. “I’m sure that someone has booked this room for 10pm.” With a groan, she sat up and ran a hand through her hair, trying to bring some tidiness to the black locks. Vera copied her, her fingers tangling on her curls.

“Feel better?” Vera asked, untangling her hand. Joan felt a jolt go through her. It was the first time in a long time that someone had asked if she felt better, without an ulterior motive. She smiled. 

“Much better, thank you.” She got to her feet and held out a hand to the shorter woman. “My gripe for today is mostly officers being obstinate and not doing as I’ve told them.” Vera took her hand, nodding at Joan’s answer.

“Tell me about it. It feels like some days, they do it on purpose to annoy me.” Whilst Vera had some balance with her officers, she felt a divide between them whilst she was acting as governor. Previously, the officers had made some small effort to include her in their plans but had subtly blocked her out whilst she was occupying the governor office. The curly haired deputy found that she didn’t particularly mind, she never felt a friendship with any of the officers, despite Fletch’s flirtations, which seemed to be tapering off at last. She found that she had no patience for their nights out of binge drinking and crude gossip, wanting something with more substance in it in a friendship. But it would help her if they actually followed her orders like they did other appointed governors.

“Ah, the woes of upper management.” Joan smirked, causing Vera to blush a little. The older woman noticed. Reaching behind her head, she slowly parted her hair and began to plait it loosely to keep it out of her face with practiced ease. Vera’s eyes followed the lines of her arms, where she watched as the smooth ivory skin of her arms led to a delicate neck, despite the muscles in the woman’s arms.

“I wish I could plait my hair, I never could figure out how!” She laughed, ignoring the jab in her gut that told her that her own mother should have taken the time to teach her, remembering the times she’d sat in the library at school, trying to follow along with diagrams in the girls magazines at seven years old and feeling like a failure for not being able to accomplish even a small braid. Joan quickly tied the bobble in her hair and turned to her. With her hand, she motioned with one finger for the other woman to turn around. Confused, Vera gazed at her.

“Turn, and I’ll plait your hair. Then, maybe next time I’ll show you how.” There’s a gentle order in her tone, expecting Vera to do as she’s asked, but no repercussions if she doesn’t. Joan supposes that she can be the gentler version of the Governor here.

Surprised and unable to answer, Vera does as she’s told. Joan said next time. She expected there to be a next time. Vera tried not to let the excited shiver that ran down her spine show.

“I’d like that.” She said, trying to keep the tone light, not wanting to seem like an overeager puppy with this woman who seemed so cultured and elegant that she could roundhouse kick a man twice her size and make it look like a ballet move. Joan smiled at the response as she gently took Vera’s curls in her hands, and parted the locks, ensuring that the hair didn’t tangle. Vera noticed the care she took in not yanking the strands, or getting the hair knotted, feeling as the older woman’s hands moved down the back of her head and finished with the hair tie between her shoulder blades. She gently placed her hands on her shoulders and spun her around to face her.

“There.” Joan smiles at her, and together the two walk towards the changing room to collect their bags, neither woman bothering to change, seeing as they’re going straight home to their respective apartments. The conversation continued to flow as the two waved goodbye to the night shift receptionist, since Kevin had gone home. The two separated at their respective cars, waving with a smile as they pulled out of their spots.

The two shared a laugh as they both met up again waiting for the elevator to the apartment building.

“Oh, I almost forgot earlier. Here.” Joan held out a small piece of paper between her index and middle finger which Vera took without question. Written inside, in a perfect font was a mobile number and Joan’s name above it. The handwriting reminded Vera of calligraphy, and she felt slightly jealous. When she mentioned this to the older woman, the two shared a small laugh. “In case you need anything, at least you have my number. Perhaps you can text when you’re available for a session next time, hm?”

The elevator slowed to a stop and the door slid open with a gentle swoosh. Vera stepped out and turned to hold the door open with her hand.

“I’d like that. Any preferred day?”

“Anytime that is easiest for you. Have a good night.” Joan grinned, watching the other woman’s face return the smile. “Kick some ass tomorrow, Vera. Don’t let them get away with not obeying direct orders.” She smirked, and saw the flash of determination in the curly haired woman’s eyes as she let go of the elevator door, waving as she nodded and called goodnight. Joan didn’t bother to pretend that she wasn’t staring at the woman’s behind as she walked away from the elevator.

Later, as she lay in her bed, Vera reached out and opened her phone, typing a quick message to the new number that she’d immediately programmed into her contacts.

_Thank you for today, I think you’re the reason I’ll be able to sleep tonight instead of just being agitated all night. Vera._

She sent it before she could overthink the action. She held the phone, her breath stopping as a small speech bubble with three dots inside popped up on the screen.

_No problem at all. Show them who’s the boss tomorrow. Joan._

_Do you mean the inmates or the officers?_

_Both!_

Vera stared at the ceiling for a moment, before simply deciding to bite the bullet and ask.

_When are you free this week?_

The reply took longer this time. Vera was beginning to think that she’d been too hasty when a text appeared, showing the times and dates where Joan would be free in the coming week. The delay had obviously been due to the older woman checking her schedule before sending an answer. After agreeing to meet after their shift tomorrow at the Studio, the two texted their good nights.

Vera would be lying if she said that she didn’t fall asleep with a small smile on her face.

Joan ensured that there would be a studio booked in their name for 9pm tomorrow for two hours before settling under the covers and giving herself over to sleep. 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vera and Joan become closer, and the appointment of Erica Davidson causes some truth about the two to come out, with the help of copious amounts of vodka. 
> 
> There's some fluff in here, and these two look out for each other.

The next day, Vera did indeed give the officers hell over ignoring orders. She didn’t raise her voice, she didn’t gesture wildly or lose her temper. She simply stated that in no uncertain terms, that her orders, if she gave them, were to be obeyed. They were not suggestions, or ideas. Acting Governor Bennett expected her orders to be followed, without any whining about the task set out. Somehow, to the staff this was more intimidating than if she had been yelling at them. She met the eyes of every single officer in front of her, explaining how within two weeks the new official governor would be arriving, but until then she was in charge whether they liked it or not, as she had been for the past three months. The staff in front of her shuffled their feet like children, looking away from her gaze.

_Bloody children._

She stalked from the break room, not seeing the look that everyone shared between them. Vera Bennett had undergone a change in the last few months, one they hadn’t expected. They’d noticed the way she spoke to them now had steel behind it, instead of asking for tasks to be done she now commanded them. She expected her commands to be fulfilled, not only as the Acting Governor but as the Deputy Governor. Unconsciously, the entire staff were reminded that regardless of what position she held in the upper management of Wentworth, she was their superior whether they liked it or not and she expected to be treated as such.

Fletcher had noticed the change most. Vera had changed from a sweet woman who wanted to be liked, to a stronger and harder woman who didn’t particularly care what you thought of her. He’d been bluntly told that his attempts at flirtation were not welcomed and that if he didn’t cease, she’d arrange for him to be transferred to a different prison. He’d been so shocked at her words that he’d not been able to answer her when she’d raised an eyebrow, looked particularly unimpressed as she looked him up and down and turned to walk away. She’d called for him to tuck in his shirt, and to make sure he ironed it before his next shift as she turned the corner, prisoners moving out of the way to let her pass.

The two weeks before the new governor arrived passed in a fairly calm manner. Officers did their jobs, the inmates were kept calm barring a few scuffles here and there and she continued to meet Joan for sparring sessions when they were both free. More than once, the pair had retreated to one of the hot-tubs in the Studio once their session ended, trying to stop their muscles seizing after such a workout. The two became closer friends and had ended up laughing and talking over wine in either Vera’s apartment or Joan’s, more than once.

The day of the new Governor’s arrival, Joan sent a quick text before setting off for work.

_Show this new Governor that she has her work cut out to keep up with you. Have a good day._

She didn’t see the answer until she’d gotten home, with her phone staying in her office and having been kept busy due to one thing or another. All Vera had done was send an angry emoji in return around lunchtime, making Joan smirk a little.

The new Governor of Wentworth had been found wanting, then.

The fact that Vera knocked on her door with a fresh bottle of vodka later that evening, proved her assumption.

“That bad?” She asked, leaning against her doorframe after she’d opened the door.

“That bad.” Vera answered, holding the bottle in front of her. Joan let her through, closing the door and following behind, only stopping to grab two shot glasses from the kitchen. She found Vera sat on her balcony, where they usually spent their evenings if the weather permitted when they were drinking. She’d opened the bottle and was staring at the small flames in the firepit that Joan kept there.

“The women will eat her alive.” The curly haired woman said as Joan sat down, one leg tucked underneath her and the other with her foot balanced on the small table in front of them after placing the shot glasses on the table.

“Is she truly that bad?” Joan was interested in what Vera thought on the new governor. It would show her what type of person Vera was, beyond what she’d already found out from the last two months.

“She believes in rehabilitation. Which is a fantastic stance to have, when you implement it right.” Vera rested her chin in her hand and looked at the woman next to her. “She wants to stop us having spray gas, handcuffs and even restraining the women if its needed. She wants the use of the slot stopped completely. She’s very naïve in her worldview.”

Joan agreed, although rehabilitation was possible, it all depended on the individual. The prison system could only offer so many educational courses and therapies, it was up to the prisoners themselves to do the work. Not to mention the other factors that fit into an individual reoffending, all the hard work needed to come from the person themselves. So this new governor was incredibly narrow minded to think that simply getting rid of the ways an officer could keep the other inmates safe was ridiculous.

“She’s never been an officer, I’m guessing?” Joan knew immediately that the new boss didn’t have a history in corrections. If she had, she would never suggest the removal of the tools that kept both the officers and inmates safe. Vera shook her head and leaned forward to pour a shot for each of them.

“Fancy degrees, all these letters after her name, but not an ounce of real experience in a prison setting. I have no clue what the board was thinking. She won’t even wear the uniform.” Vera scoffed, and threw back the shot. The deputy of Wentworth thought that by refusing to wear the uniform, the woman displayed a contempt for the whole position, wanting to be shown to be separate from the other members of staff.

“What’s she called?”

“Erica Davidson.” Vera spat out the name, pouring another shot and downing it. Joan raised her eyebrows at Vera’s unusual behaviour. The woman (who Joan already knew of) must have truly gotten under her skin.

“I know who she is. She’s ambitious, used to be a lawyer and a prisoner’s advocate.” Joan downed her own shot, watching as Vera swallowed her third. “We’ve met.”

“And what do you think of her?” Vera questioned, curious what the older woman thought. Joan had her own way of ruling Bahnhurst, she’d provided some detail about it when the curly haired woman asked. Joan governed her prison with a firm hand and a no drug policy. Vera wished she could get the stuff out of Wentworth but with Erica Davidson too focused on rehabilitation, she wouldn’t get the support she needed to be able to do it successfully.

“I don’t particularly like her. She’s very focused I will give her that, but she can’t multitask, so she ends up over her head more often than not. She’ll let problems fester and create more on top of them. The amount of times she’s tried to smooth talk her way with the inmates at Bahnhurst and my officers have had to step in to stop a woman taking her head off is in the double digits. And that was when she was only an advocate for the women.” Joan rubbed a finger over her lips and lifted the shot glass to her mouth, throwing it back. “If she’s governor, she’s going to make life messy for officers and the prisoners. Just a small warning for you.”

Vera groaned and leaned her head on the back of the chair. “Seriously?!” Instead of pouring a shot, she instead reached for the bottle and took a large mouthful, grimacing as she swallowed.

“Alright, if you’re drinking straight from the bottle then I’m ordering food. What are you having?” Joan pulled out her phone and brought up local places that could deliver food in a Google search.

Three hours later, and with different sized, empty food containers resting on the table in front of them from their meal that Joan ordered, the two women are more than a little tipsy. The vodka bottle on the table is half full.

“Swear to God, I don’t like men!” Vera is howling, nearly crying from the laughter between the two of them. Joan has changed her position on the chair and is now sat with her back pressed against one arm and both legs swung over the other, facing Vera. “Just the idea of a penis anywhere near me makes me go like this!” she makes an overexaggerated grimace on her face, sticking her tongue out in disgust that makes Joan nearly snort with laughter. “I’m quite late realising I know, but damn it makes me feel better to figure it out.”

“Nothing wrong with that! I’ve never liked them, so cheers to that!” Joan has allowed herself to become as drunk as Vera, enjoying her company too much to scheme how to use it to her advantage. She’s decided to simply be Vera’s friend and deal with any fallout that may come from it, emotionally or otherwise. Besides, her drunken brain thinks that Vera’s nose crinkle when she laughs is very cute.

“Never liked them? At all?” Vera looks at her as she downs a shot. “I can think a man is pretty good looking, but I’ve never had the urge to do anything with them! Now women on the other hand…” the faces the curly haired woman makes causes Joan to cackle, throwing her head back and trying to muffle them with the back of her hand. “What?!”

Joan is still laughing. “Women are truly lovely, I will freely admit to that. Took me a while to realise the persuasion my sexuality took, but once I finally admitted to myself? Felt lighter than I had in a very long time. I’m just glad my father died before I came ‘out,’ as it were.”

Vera notices the mention of her father. “He wouldn’t have approved, then?” Joan shook her head, but didn’t look particularly sad at the mention of her deceased father. Vera, recognising the offer of information for what it was, exchanged her own. “My mother definitely wouldn’t approve. But then, I’ve stopped giving a shit.”

Joan raised her head to look at her, eyebrow raised.

“I moved out about two months and a bit ago? Haven’t spoken to her since I carried the last of my things out of my old house. The last thing she told me was that I would come crawling back and that I wouldn’t cope on my own and then she slammed the door. I gave the house the middle finger before I left.” Vera rolls her eyes and reaches forwards to grasp the bottle on the table. “If we’re talking about parents, I need another shot.”

Joan holds out her own glass. “My father made me miserable with his obsession with achievement and perfection. The only good thing to come from it was my fencing ability. He was fixated on being emotionless. Even I know that’s not healthy.” She quickly swallowed the vodka her companion had poured. “I don’t count an obsessive need for order that he instilled in me as a good thing. I’m getting better with that though.”

Vera adjusted her posture in the chair. “She’s manipulated me my entire life, especially after my dad left. I wished that he’d taken me with him, I would have had a happier childhood, I think. It’s only after I started going to the Studio that I got the confidence to do something about it. Meg dying really lit a fire under my ass.”

“I imagine that something like that would give you a reason to change things that you aren’t happy with. I had someone, back in the early days of my career. She died, and I was the one to find her. I thought she’d done it herself for years but it turns out that it was three other women who decided they didn’t appreciate the relationship we had.” Joan held out her shot glass. If she was speaking of Jianna and her death, she needed more alcohol.

“In the early days of your career?” The cogs in Vera’s brain spun, despite the drunkenness she was feeling. Vera recognised what Joan was telling her.

“This doesn’t leave the two of us.” Joan held out a finger in warning, Vera nodding immediately.

“Of course not. Who would I even tell?” It’s the truth. Vera had work colleagues, but no true friends, except for Joan. She had acquaintances at the Studio from the classes she’d go to, but except for Kevin, nobody other than Joan. She worried that she was placing too much importance on the friendship, but she needn’t have worried, Joan felt the same.

“She was an inmate.” Joan swallowed, loudly. “I had only been in the job about a year, but it happens. By the time she was dead, I loved her more than I could ever say. There’s more to the story, but that’s the basics of it.” Joan held out her hand, indicating to Vera that she wanted the bottle. “Fucked me up more than anything else ever did.” She took a large mouthful from the bottle.

“I’ve never felt love, but is it better to have had that, even for a little while?” Vera asks, and it isn’t the question that Joan expected. She half expected the shorter woman to storm out in disgust, but she surprises her once more. “Did you see anyone about it? A therapist, or anyone like that?”

Joan shrugs her shoulders. “I bottled everything up for a long time. For years. And then one day, an inmate comes up to me saying that she’d seen us, all those years ago, and she wanted something in return for silence. I lost it. Completely lost it and it terrified me after because I’d seen my father fly into the same type of rages. I was deputy at the time, and the woman came close to losing an eye. It scared her enough to keep quiet but it was enough for me to realise that a person couldn’t live with just bottling every emotion and not dealing with it. Dad was wrong on that score. I looked into a therapist after that shift.”

Vera reached forward to grasp one of Joan’s hands. “Did this inmate try again to get you?”

“Apparently she was stabbed in the neck once she was transferred to a different prison towards the end of her sentence. So that little problem sorted itself out.” Again, Joan shrugs her shoulders, but places a hand over Vera’s.

“I’m not going to sit here and judge, Joan.” She looks her in the eye. “We work in corrections, you need to be morally ambiguous to actually succeed in the field. I’ve done my fair share of shit.” Joan smiled at her. “Seriously. Walking away when I should have intervened. Smuggled some harmless contraband when I really shouldn’t have. Passed on information that should have stayed in a file.”

The two women are quiet for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet and the crackling coming from the fire that is still burning merrily in the firepit.

Joan strokes the hand on top of hers, smiling gently. “I’m very glad that Kevin introduced us.”

Vera grins in return, the mood light again, but the two feeling closer than before.

It is past 3am when they finish off the bottle and the last of the crisps and nibbles that Joan had dug out of her kitchen at midnight. Joan refuses to let Vera stumble home, even if it is only a few floors, and borrows her some spare pyjamas. Joan offered to sleep on the sofa but Vera refused, stating that she wouldn’t take Joan’s bed. In compromise, the pair stumble into Joan’s large bed together, giggling like teenagers as sleep quickly takes over in their inebriated state as they snuggle into the blankets. They are both very aware that their heads are going to hurt tomorrow.

When the pair wake, they are welcomed with pounding heads.

Vera has snuggled closer to Joan in the night, who has her arm tucked around the other woman’s waist with Vera’s face buried into her shoulder, snoring softly. When she feels Joan moving, Vera startles and opens her eyes, then shutting them again and wincing.

“Did we really finish a bottle of vodka between us?” She whispers, feeling Joan nod.

“Your fault.” Joan answers softly, closing her eyes.

“Mhm, I’ll take the blame, I enjoyed last night too much to regret it.” Vera whispers into a pale shoulder, snuggling closer. Joan smiles, Vera apparently imitated a koala when tired.

“Are you sure you’re alright with my arm here?” Joan moves her arm softly, but Vera covers it with her own, stopping her removing the limb completely.

“You had your legs wrapped around my head two days ago to beat me in a fight. Believe me, this is more comfortable so you aren’t moving. Go back to sleep.”

Vera feels the older woman’s soft laughter and can feel her body relax into the mattress, her breathing slowing as she drops back to sleep. Vera quickly follows.

At midday, the two wake again, still in the same position, but the pounding in their heads has dulled to a normal headache that some painkillers and a lot of water will cure in no time. 

Vera groans, opening her eyes.

“You’re going to make me move, aren’t you?” Joan asks, keeping her eyes closed.

“Yes, otherwise I’ll wet your bed. Your choice.” Vera answers with friendly snark. Joan opens her eyes and grins, enjoying the banter. Vera was more sassy than anyone at her work would believe, and always had a witty comment on the tip of her tongue. The older woman loosens her arm and Vera quickly hightails it into the en-suite to use the bathroom, the legs of Joan’s borrowed pyjamas pooling around her feet.

Joan stretches her arms over her head, feeling her joints pop, indicating that she’d had a hell of a good night’s sleep. Flinging back the covers and sitting up, she turns her body to place her feet on the floor. After standing, she quickly makes the bed and grabs her robe, leaving the spare on the bed for Vera to use and heads through the apartment to the kitchen to get some coffee and toast started.

Once she had the kettle brewing and bread in the toaster, she fills two large glasses with water and finds some painkillers after digging in a cupboard. She quickly downs one glass of water and takes the pills, leaving the other glass for Vera. Noticing the mess still on the table on the balcony from last night through the closed glass door, she decides its better to clear it up now rather than risking the magpies trying to get to them.

She’s in the process of dumping the empty containers in the bin and rinsing out the vodka bottle to place it in the recycling when Vera walks through wearing Joan’s spare robe. The bottom is skimming the floor, however on Joan the length comes to mid-calf. Its this image that makes Joan start laughing, much to Vera’s consternation.

“Sure, sure, laugh at the midget. Why are you so tall?!” she smiles at the sight of Joan practically losing her marbles over the kitchen island with laughter and moves over to the now boiled kettle to make them both some decent coffee. Joan, still laughing moves over to the toaster to grab the toast and picks up the butter on the way over.

“You’ve got a serious case of bedhead, by the way.” She winks as she passes the open mouthed woman with the coffee in her hands.

“I’m not surprised, my hair has a life of its own.” Vera’s answer is immediate. “Besides, it looks like your own hair has its own case of bedhead.” Joan’s laugh is her response, making her smile.

There’s a comfortable silence as the two make their way over to the island stools to have breakfast, despite it being lunchtime.

“Note to self, we shouldn’t drink that amount of vodka again.” Vera nibbles on the toast, whilst Joan cradles a mug of coffee in her hands.

“Agreed. I’m usually pretty good with my intake of the stuff but damn. Last night was a heavy night.” The older woman sips her drink.

The conversation flows from there, Vera stating when she was working next, and not looking forward to having to put the new Governor through her paces.

“Don’t babysit her. If she thinks that she can do the job, let her be thrown in the deep end of it. You were.” Joan has no sympathy. No experience beyond the role of an advocate in corrections? The only way the woman would do well is if she was thrown in and quickly learnt how to tread water. She’d either succeed or drown. Vera is nodding in agreement with her, not willing to go above and beyond for the new boss who had already gotten under her skin and pushed all the wrong buttons.

“I’m not doing two jobs anymore. Now that she’s there she can take over what she’s supposed to be doing, and that might give me some more free time. Maybe I’ll try fencing.” She raises an eyebrow at Joan who’s smirking at her.

“I’ll teach you, if you really wanted to learn.” She offers, biting a corner off her own slice of toast. “That reminds me, Kevin keeps asking to go on a night out with him. I said that I’d ask you.”

The curly haired woman sips her coffee and thinks about it. “That could be a good way to destress actually. Plus we could go for a few cocktails before meeting him. We should definitely go.”

The rest of the afternoon passes in much of the same, relaxed way. The two lounge around watching Netlfix, and Vera is surprised that Joan is halfway through Orange is the New Black, but doesn’t mention it beyond a little grin thrown in her direction.

Eventually, Vera has to admit to herself that she needs to go home to get ready for work tomorrow. Reluctantly, she places Joan’s robe on the hook behind the bedroom door and grabs her clothes in her arms.

“I’ll launder the pjs and bring them back.” She says, then making Joan laugh when she explains that she isn’t going to change to go down four floors in an elevator. She’s hungover, after all.

Vera makes sure to hug Joan before she leaves, promising to text her later. Joan waves from her door as Vera steps into the elevator and the doors swish closed.

Sure enough, the two text throughout the evening, until the both of them admit that they need to go to bed due to an early shift in the morning.

_______________________________________________

The next few weeks pass by in similar fashion. Vera tried fencing but found she didn’t like it, feeling that the movements were too bulky whilst wearing the garb of a fencer. However she decided that could watch Joan fence until the end of time. Kevin had been right, the woman was _quick._

Soon, two months had passed, with no major issues popping up. Erica Davidson had learned quickly that her deputy would not be taken advantage of and wouldn’t be manipulated into doing extra duties either. The staff didn’t particularly like her, as she was pushing for them to have more work to do during a shift, and the inmates were becoming agitated with the change in routines. Beyond that, life was calm. An interesting thing happened though. One morning, Vera sent off a text to Joan moaning that she’d forgotten her lunch. When Vera had checked her phone when she got a chance to take her lunch break, she found a text in response.

_Ask the ape-like man with the wrinkled shirt on reception where he put your lunch. Brought you something to eat on my way to work._

Vera had gone to find Fletch on the reception, asking if he had anything for her. The man had handed over a lunch-bag, and a small flask, and wouldn’t meet her eye.

“Who dropped it off, Fletch?”

“Er…a dark haired woman, quite tall. She had a governor’s uniform on. She looked bloody scary, Vera. I thought she was here to do a surprise inspection or something. Do you know who she was?” The man was stuttering, she’d need to ask Joan what she said to him later. “She asked for me to give the bag to Deputy Bennett, said my shirt needed ironing and then left.” His skittishness proved that Joan had said more than that to him, but Vera decided to let it lie for now.

Vera smirked as she looked in the lunch-bag and found a tub of salad, and a container filled with the pasta the two had shared the night before that Vera had loved. She also saw two cookies tucked down the side in a small plastic bag. Whilst Joan may not have a sweet tooth, she knew that Vera did. She assumed there was tea in the flask.

The Deputy felt a flash of warmth shoot through her. Joan hadn’t thought twice about making her a lunch and dropping it off on her way to work. It made her feel nice, to have someone that thought of doing such a thing for her. She smiled as she closed the bag and made her way back to the breakroom, silencing any further questions from Fletch with a single look.

Her good mood lasted all day, despite the curious glances from the other officers in the breakroom towards her lunch, that they knew she hadn’t arrived with.

Later, whilst the two were trying a new move on the sparring mats, Vera asked the older woman what she’d said to him.

“I simply told him to mind his appearance, and it was strange how a man his age didn’t know how to use an iron, apparently.” Joan grunted as Vera hooked her foot around her ankle and pulled backwards, causing the older woman to topple on top of her. The curly haired woman then immediately rolled them with hidden strength, leaning over Joan as their noses nearly touched.

“Pin. I win.” She grins down at Joan, who raises an eyebrow in challenge.

“Best of 5?”

“That was a best of 5!” Vera retorts with a laugh.

“Best of 7, then.” Her tone borders on petulant.

“Is Joan Ferguson a sore loser?”

“…Maybe.”

____________________________________________________

The two have been good friends for six months when Vera gets a text.

_I won’t be able to make it to the Studio tonight. Currently sat in the emergency department of Royal Melbourne with a suspected partially dislocated shoulder._

Before, Vera may have panicked. However, now Vera refrains. Joan is a grown woman, and it wasn’t like she was having a heart attack. Taking a deep breath, she fires of a reply.

_How have you gotten to the hospital if you have a dislocated shoulder?_

_I drove myself._

She’d driven herself?! With a dislocated shoulder? Vera remembered the first time Joan had brought lunch without prompting. The two had returned the favour multiple times over the last few months, but this was completely different.

Vera made a decision.

_I’ll be there in an hour, and I’ll wait with you to drive you and your car home._

She’d finished her shift early, not bothering to explain to Erica beyond ‘’a friend of mine is in the hospital and she needs a ride home. You owe me time back from last week and I’m taking it.” The Governor, looking particularly harried had tried to refuse, however the look on Vera’s face had showed that to argue would be futile. With or without Governor Davidson’s permission, Vera would be leaving. 

After driving home, changing and then requesting an Uber, Vera walked into the emergency department and found Joan sat in a chair, legs crossed and cradling her left arm whilst scrolling on her phone.

Slipping into the seat next to her, Vera looked over. “Are you seriously playing Candy Crush?”

Joan looks to her, and gives a small smile. Vera can tell that she’s in some pain, so to distract her she asks how the older woman had ended up injured.

“An inmate managed to land a tackle on me from behind and ended up throwing me into a wall. It's not that bad, honestly, I think it's already put itself back into place.”

Vera winced. The lack of mobility in Joan’s arm was going to annoy her after they got it seen to, if it was truly dislocated.

All in all, the two were only in the hospital for four hours. Joan had dislocated her shoulder, however it had immediately relocated itself once she’d driven to the hospital, likely whilst going through the motions of changing gears in the car. Vera ignored the smug look that the black-haired woman sent her way from her place on the hospital bed. She was never going to hear the end of this.

“Well, Mrs Ferguson we’ll give you a prescription for some painkillers and some exercises to do to help the healing and then we can go about discharging you. Mrs Ferguson,” The doctor focuses on Vera this time, who’s looking at him in slight shock. “If you could make sure that she doesn’t sleep on her left side for a few days, that will also help speed up the healing process.” The doctor didn’t notice the bewildered look on the faces of both women and left the cubicle to grab the discharge papers.

The two women stared at each other before bursting into laughter.

“Mrs Ferguson.” Vera is bent in half, giggling.

“Wife, please help me with finding my phone, I find that I need to change your name in my contact list.” Joan is gesturing with her good arm, also laughing.

The pair don’t realise how at ease the term sits with them.

That evening, Joan sends a text to Vera, causing a whole new round of laughter to burst from the curly haired woman.

On her home screen is the notification : _Message from The Wife._

Looks like Joan had managed to be a bit sneaky earlier.

She doesn’t change it back.

Joan had been joking earlier in the hospital, but she soon realises that Vera had managed to change her contact to _The Missus_ in her phone when she wasn’t looking _._

Joan doesn’t change it either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading guys! 
> 
> Comments and Kudos keep me going!
> 
> Please feel free to check out my other stories! For now, all the stories I write are Wentworth!


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see the ladies becoming closer, as the events of Season 1 continue. Vera really doesn't like her current boss, and really likes how Joan looks in jeans. 
> 
> Let's see what the ladies get up to this time, shall we?

Vera has noticed that tension is brewing at Wentworth. With Jacs Holt and Franky butting heads and somehow the latest new prisoner, Bea Smith is involved, every officer in the building is on edge waiting for the other shoe to drop. Not to mention that Fletcher has upped his continuous flirting, despite constant warnings. Vera honestly couldn’t remember what she found appealing in him, back in the days where she was trying to hide her own sexuality from herself. With the simmering strain within the prison, Governor Davidson is not appearing to cope well with the stress, which means she is unlikely to sign off on Vera transferring Fletch to somewhere far away, preferably in a different continent. Erica’s reaction to the stress is something that Vera mentions to Joan after a particularly heavy-going spar whilst they are both sat in one of the hot-tubs at the Studio.

“She’s stressed out of her skull.” Vera closes her eyes and leans her head back, enjoying the feel of the jets against her lower back. An image of Joan clad in her black bikini flashes behind her closed eyelids and she allows a small smile to appear on her face.

“Is it general stress or is it because of an incident?” Joan asks, splashing some water towards Vera with her foot to get her to look in her direction. The feel of the splashed water against her neck does what it’s expected, and has Vera opening her eyes and looks at Joan with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. The older woman is opposite her, both arms outstretched and resting on the sides of the hot-tub, hair pulled up in a messy bun on the crown of her head. Joan sits, as regal as a queen, waiting for Vera’s answer. 

“I think it’s more the build up to an incident.”

“Ah.” Joan nods in understanding. “The atmosphere is tense, isn’t it? She’s likely never experienced that feeling before. Knowing that something is coming but having no idea what it is.”

Vera nods, grateful that Joan manages to put it into words. The feeling of your stomach coiling in anticipation and not knowing where or when the situation might erupt. What is annoying her about Erica is the fact that instead of actively trying to find out what might be coming so that she can try to cut it off before it happens, she’s cowering in her office and insisting on an escort whenever she moves around the prison. When Vera tells Joan this little fact, the woman’s lip pulls up into a sneer.

“Governor of a prison and insists on an escort? Oh please.” Joan scoffs.

“She didn’t like it when I told her that I had an actual job to do when she asked me to walk her around.” Vera tells her, laughing at the disbelief in Joan’s face. “Yes, she really did ask me.”

Vera watched as Joan rubbed her forehead, unable to believe that the woman was in charge of a prison yet wouldn’t actually walk around it alone. What a way to announce Erica’s nervousness and vulnerability around the women. They’d find a way to use it against her.

“I know that you can more than handle yourself, but please be careful in the upcoming days? I’d hate for you to be hurt in any crossfire.”

Vera fills with warmth at Joan’s request for her safety. She knows that the black-haired woman is not the most emotive of people, but she shows that she cares through actions. Vera thought back to the first time Joan had dropped off lunch for her, worrying that she wouldn’t feel well going the entire day without something to eat. Since then the older woman had provided support when needed, a good kick up the ass and plenty of food. Joan happened to be an amazing cook, and Vera usually ended up taking leftovers to work more often than not, even if the two hadn’t eaten together the night previous. The fact that Vera could burn water also made the leftovers twice as delicious.

Vera couldn’t imagine her life without Joan in it, anymore.

Joan couldn’t imagine her life without the curly haired deputy either.

“Did you have to whack me so hard in the neck with that last kick?” Joan complains, rubbing her neck where a new red mark has appeared and bringing Vera out of her wool-gathering. She scoots around in the tub, settling next to the older woman and looks at her neck. Gently, she uses a hand to tilt the other woman’s chin away to look closer. Sure enough, the red mark has bloomed with the heat from the water, and stands out against Joan’s pale skin. Before Joan, Vera might have stuttered apologies and explanations. Now, Vera uses the hand on Joan’s chin to turn her head to meet her eyes.

“Well if you’d moved faster it wouldn’t have hurt so much.” She quips, causing a snort from Joan that makes her nose to crinkle and the woman slaps the water and splashes her, which causes Vera to retaliate.

“Oh I see, less than a year of decent training and you think you can beat me so easily?!” Joan retorts, continuing to splash her. This leads to the two flinging water at each other, squealing and giggling like children.

“Are you off, tomorrow?” Vera asks when the two eventually settle back enjoy the last few moments that they have in the warm water.

“Yes, and not in until midday the day after.” Joan automatically readjusts her posture to accommodate the shorter woman as Vera leans her head on her shoulder in a move that she doesn’t realise that she’s done until her cheek is already on Joan’s shoulder. She starts to raise her head to move away when Joan’s voice stops her.

“I don’t mind.”

Taking the woman at her word, instead of dithering as she might had done previously, she settles back against the pale shoulder and sighs. She feels Joan rest her cheek on the top of her head. Vera can feel her grin.

“I fancy a cocktail. It is Friday.” Vera says, sighing. “Perhaps more than one, but we’ve not been out properly in a while. We could get dressed up in heels that aren’t part of our work uniform!” She raises her head to pout at Joan, who rolls her eyes good naturedly at her.

“Cocktails do sound pretty good.” Joan cranes her neck to look at the large clock on the wall, seeing that the time is nearing 8:30pm, making Vera feel the loss of her cheek on her head. “By the time we’ve each gone home and gotten ready, its going to be closer to 10pm. That alright with you?” She looks at the woman next to her, who is already nodding enthusiastically.

The bubbles in the hot-tub stop, indicating that their time is up.

“Well look at that. Perfect timing.” Vera says, and stands up, Joan watching her figure as the petite woman climbs out of the tub. Vera grabs a towel and wraps it around her blue bikini-clad body and unfolds one for Joan to use, turning to hand it to her, and pauses at the sight in front of her.

Joan had stood from the water and is gracefully stepping over the side of the tub, water cascading down her body, drawing Vera’s eye, looking like she out to be in a painting. The black high leg bikini bottoms make her legs look as if they go on for miles and show off her defined waist, whilst the top supports an ample bust which Vera has to slightly shake her head to draw her eyes away. Joan gratefully takes the offered towel, noticing that Vera had been staring.

 _Vera was a tit girl, who knew?_ She thought to herself with a small smirk.

The pair make their way to the changing rooms, and are on their way home to shower and change in their respective apartments before the time has reached 8:45pm.

Vera rushes to open the door when Joan knocks, one hand busy trying to find the hole in her ear to slip the earring through as she yanks on the handle. She almost drops the earring when she spots the older woman after opening the door and has to remind herself to stop staring, worrying that she might make the other woman uncomfortable.

_Christ, she always forgot how good Joan looked in jeans._

It wasn’t often that Joan would wear jeans, preferring leggings or cigarette style trousers, however she did occasionally wear them when the mood struck her. Vera appreciated the view, every time.

The black-haired woman has decided on a pair of high waisted skinny black jeans, paired with an almost sheer green top with loose sleeves down to her wrists, where the fabric is pulled together at the cuffs. She’s worn a silky black camisole underneath. She’s tucked in the top, highlighting the hourglass shape of her figure, and the entire ensemble is finished off with black high heeled ankle boots making her already tall frame even taller. With a matching clutch bag and a black leather jacket that she currently has folded over her arm, the outfit is complete. Vera notices that she’s curled her hair, and is wearing more makeup than usual including red lipstick, paired with a simple pair of sparkly earrings. She looks incredible.

When Vera ushers her in, she inhales and smells the delicious and likely, very expensive perfume that Joan wears as she passes. After she closes the door she follows behind her guest, eyes on her behind as the two walk through to the kitchen where two glasses of wine are waiting. Joan moves around Vera’s kitchen without consciously thinking about it, in the same way that Vera does in the other woman’s apartment. Each know where everything is and know that they can help themselves to anything, be that a book, a cup of sugar or use the washing machine. Quick as a whip, Joan yanks the metal tea tin from beside the kettle and flings it at Vera, watching with a smirk as the woman catches it one handed and places it down on the worktop of the island. She meets Joan’s smirk with a raised eyebrow.

“Must you do that?”

“I’m just checking you’re still awake, because for someone who desperately wants cocktails you have yet to put proper trousers on.” Joan leans forward, cupping her face in her hands and resting her elbows on the island, looking perfectly innocent. Vera smirks, and leans forward slightly to tap a finger on the woman’s nose, making her blink in surprise and causing her mouth to drop open.

“Be right back. And you know you love my stripy pyjama bottoms!” Vera calls as she walks away in the direction of her bedroom, noticing after she walks to her wardrobe that Joan’s gaze had been trained on her backside the entire time.

“ _I just love your bottom.”_ was what when through Joan’s mind. She reached over and gently brought one of the wine glasses to her lips and sipping. She gagged and spluttered at the vinegar taste, and quickly strode over to the sink to pour the rest of the glass away. It was a constant friendly squabble between the two, with Joan preferring a deep red, such as a Pinot and Vera had found her taste in Shiraz, and the debate would continue until vodka or rum would make an appearance and the two would forget all about it until the next time came to poke fun at wine preferences.

“VERA! You bought swill! Again!” She calls, rinsing out the glass, and then turning to the fridge to rummage through for something that tasted better, like a Pinot.

“Shiraz is NOT SWILL, WOMAN!” she hears her call back, indignance lacing her tone. Joan hears a thump and a curse, which she assumes is a shoe falling. The woman knew exactly what Vera sounded like when she fell. The term _motherfucker_ was often involved in some way.

Grinning, Joan notices the unopened bottle of wine in the door, and glances in the direction of the bedroom, allowing a small smile to spread on her face. No matter what wine Vera bought, she’d always buy a Pinot for her. The same applied for Joan. There was a fresh bottle of Shiraz in her fridge, just waiting for the next time Vera would pop round for a rant and a catch up, and probably dinner. Which knowing the two of them, would be the next day.

They enjoyed each other’s company, and neither woman thought there was anything wrong with that. The fact that both of them were aware of the pleasurable sort of tension that was growing between them, was another matter entirely. Perhaps one of them would take the first step, however with both terrified of their actions being unwelcomed and potentially ruinous to their friendship, neither was willing to take the risk.

The touching had become far more frequent, though. Neither woman was complaining about that. A hand lightly resting on the small of a back, or an arm around the shoulders. One memorable occasion where Joan had fallen asleep with her head in Vera’s lap as they caught on a Netflix series, about two weeks ago. Vera had simply returned the favour a few days later, Joan lulling her to sleep by running her fingers through her hair.

Perhaps it was better to simply let whatever they had, grow naturally and as steadily as honeysuckle would climb a trellis.

Joan had uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount in the glass from before and was about to take a sip when her mouth went dry as the sound of heels on the hardwood was followed by Vera, standing in the doorway.

_She looked sublime._

Vera had decided to tame her curls into a low ponytail tonight, with the ends naturally spiralling into curls and delicately draped over her shoulder. She wore minimal makeup, not feeling the need to excessively wear any tonight. Her blue eyes shone with the subtle eyeshadow, with a dusky pink lipstick on her lips and gold studs glittered in her ears. Wearing a black jumpsuit, with a wrap front and sleeveless, she tucked a hand into the trousers of the jumpsuit which were tailored to her ankles. On her feet were a pair of gold stiletto sandals, which even to Joan, were eye wateringly tall. Joan noticed that her toes were painted black. It suited her.

“Well, well, well. You scrub up beautifully, Bennett!” Joan saluted her with the wine glass in her hand, causing the shorter woman to snort as she lifted her glass to her mouth and sipped. Vera scoffed and sauntered towards where she was leaning against the island, the heels giving her a more obvious sway to her hips than normal. Joan reached behind her and grasped the other wine glass, handing it to Vera with all the flourish of a waiter at an expensive restaurant.

“Et voila, madame, your swill.” She said with an overexaggerated French accent.

“I told you, its not!” The indignant tone remained.

Vera swatted at her hip as she took the glass from Joan’s hand, fingers brushing against each other. The two shared a glance and then Vera sipped her own wine, and Joan watched in victory as her face contorted into a grimace. 

“No, actually on this occasion you’re right. That IS swill! Ugh!” She stuck out her tongue and clunked the glass down. “I can taste that ruining my taste buds.”

Laughing softly, Joan handed Vera her glass, which still had a generous amount in the bottom. “Here, drink the rest of that, it should help.”

She moved away to rinse the glass of abandoned Shiraz as Vera clutched at the glass, and swallowed the wine, feeling very happy that Joan was willing to share such things with her, not caring that they’d shared a glass. She knew that Joan was particularly aware of germs, and always carried hand sanitizer in her handbag. If Vera were to open the expensive looking clutch bag, she would see a full small bottle of the stuff. However, Joan had rubbed off on her, as she now did the same. So she felt very touched that Joan was so willing to share and so automatically. She’d done it without thinking twice. It made her stomach twinge, in the best of ways and a big grin to appear on her face.

Vera swallowed the wine in two gulps. She then came to stand beside Joan, and feeling bold used her free hand to grasp at the older woman’s hip to gently move her aside so she could get to the sink. Joan allowed the move, both fully aware that if she didn’t want to move then nothing that Vera did would make her do so. She waited as Vera finished rinsing the glass and then grasped it in a tea towel, drying and polishing the glass to bring it to a bright shine and replacing it back in its rightful place in the cupboard. The silence between them is comfortable.

“I ordered us an Uber whilst I was putting my shoes on.” She informs the woman who nods, not needing to speak.

Joan meanders to the stools by the island. Perching on one, hooked the heel of her left foot on the footrest and balanced carefully.

“So, will you tell me now where we’re going?” Joan asks, holding her chin in her hand, looking at the shorter woman, who is already grinning like a madwoman and shaking her head.

“Nope! You’ll have to wait and see but you will LOVE IT.”

“Hm…the pool bar you took us to last time begs to differ.” Joan remembers the last night out they had, Vera had suggested going to the aptly named bar Ball No 8, and the two had ended up playing pool all night and had taken their shoes off halfway through the evening. They had stumbled through Vera’s front door at 5am and collapsed on the sofa, both still in their clothes, snoring like chainsaws and curled around each other. They’d woken at 2pm when Joan had turned in her sleep and promptly fallen off the sofa onto the floor.

It hadn’t taken long to notice that they’d managed to come home with a pool cue, more money than they’d gone out with and no shoes. Joan also found a black 8 ball in her clutch whilst Vera had apparently smuggled a red one out in hers.

They never did get the shoes back. They had returned the pool cue after two days, wearing sheepish expressions. The bartender had guffawed and snorted at the sight of the two women apologetically bringing it back, and he’d stated that they could borrow it anytime, seeing as how they’d been the only ones to ever manage it. Apparently a challenge with the Ball No 8 Bar was to smuggle out a pool cue without being stopped by security. The prize? Free drinks for an entire year.

“As fun as pool was, I have a different place in mind.” Vera walks forward and clasps Joan’s hand in hers. “I’ll give you a hint, if you’d like.”

“Go on.”

“There will be alcohol there.”

“Vera!” Joan flails in her direction at her so called hint, causing the shorter woman to cackle at the sight of the woman losing her mind over not being able to know where they’re going.

Vera’s phone pings, making both women turn to look at it and seeing that their ride for the evening is waiting outside. 

Joan walks around the island to collect both their clutch bags, whilst Vera walks to the coat rack near the front door to grab her own leather jacket. She picks it up but can’t put it on before Joan is standing before her, placing the clutch bags down on the shoe rack and gently taking the jacket from Vera’s hands. She smiles and motions with her head for the shorter woman to turn as she holds the jacket open in a chivalrous move, allowing Vera to put her arms through the sleeves. Joan makes sure that her ponytail doesn’t get stuck in the collar and gently pulls it out and pats any flyaway strands of hair down, and ensures that the collar is folded down correctly.

Vera smiles at the gentleness of Joan’s touches. The woman can be brutal, in strength and personality. She’d witnessed the strength when she’d been late to meet her at the Studio and Joan had sparred with a six foot rugby player to pass the time until she arrived. Vera had watched from the doorway in awe as the woman had thrown the guy around the room as if he was nothing more than a ragdoll, all whilst wearing her uniform, her work heels and her hair still in the bun that Vera thought looked very well on her. She’d looked like a lioness toying with her prey. The deputy had knocked on the wood of the doorframe to get her attention, and she pinned the young man before giving her attention over to Vera. The rugby player had introduced himself as Kevin’s younger brother, Billy and _could Joan please teach him how to do that takedown she’d used!?_

Joan had refused, gently, but had pointed him in the direction of the class with a licensed instructor that could teach him. Later, once the young man had left, Joan was more than happy to show Vera the move though.

The two had sparred that evening in their uniforms and heels, after Vera had wondered the previous night how clothing could either impede or improve her skills. So Joan, used to the moves in all manner of clothing, decided that they would get her body used to fighting with her uniform so that she could accommodate for any inconvenience that came from the heavy-duty fabric. Vera had very quickly realised why Joan wore tailored trousers to work. The limited range of movement she had in her pencil skirt showed during the first five minutes. The pair had unwound afterwards, sitting on Joan’s very comfortable sofa with a cup of tea each, and Vera had gently pulled the hair pins from the Governor’s hair, running her fingers through the black locks and easing the pulling sensation at the back of Joan’s head. The taller woman had rested her head on Vera’s shoulder, who’d wound an arm around her as they continued to put the world to rights and finishing their tea.

In all honesty, both women loved those kind of moments. Moments where they didn’t have to pretend to be anything other than themselves. Where the ‘prison’ masks could fall away, and they were simply Vera and Joan. No need to bark orders or demand compliance.

Joan had displayed the steel in her personality when a shrill ring tone had cut across their calm evening, and Joan had answered and verbally eviscerated whoever was on the other line for some idiotic action or other. Later, she would tell Vera that it was an officer who’d wanted to know what the best course of action was for an unruly inmate that had been acting up. Vera had answered before the taller woman did. Immediate solitary confinement for the evening, and a check to be made in the morning.

Joan had nodded, back in her spot with her head on Vera’s shoulder, sighing.

“ _See, why can’t you work with me, I wouldn’t need to hold your hand for you to do your job well.”_ She’d said wistfully, making Vera grin at the praise.

Governor Joan Ferguson and Joan were two very different people, in the same way that Deputy Vera Bennett and Vera were two completely different individuals.

The ping of the elevator drew her out of her wool-gathering and she notices Joan putting her apartment keys back in her clutch. The two had swapped spare keys around two months ago when Joan had needed to work but a plumber was scheduled to fix her sink so they’d swapped them, and now each woman had a key for each apartment. It did make things easier, however on occasion, Joan liked to knock on the door and wait for her to answer, just to keep her on her toes.

The taller woman places a hand on the small of Vera’s back, ushering her into the elevator and making a shiver of want race down her spine.

“Please, one hint.”

“Not a chance, Ferguson!”

Joan sighs through her nose, but in good humour. Vera wouldn’t chose anywhere that she knew Joan would protest to, so she trusted her in the sense that she would make sure that she enjoyed her evening.

Eventually, following a ride with a very chatty Uber driver, the pair walked down the street, quietly chatting about what they planned for dinner the next night. Vera had slipped her arm through Joan’s bent elbow, which the woman hadn’t protested to. In the back of her head, Vera had noticed the appreciative looks towards the older woman as they’d walked through the city, and something in her just wanted to silently point out that she wasn’t theirs to look at. She tried not to overthink why her brain was telling her that.

Vera led them to a black door, nestled in-between two cafes, which at this time of night were shut. However, the bright sign hanging above the door proclaimed it to be the Champagne & Cocktails Club. Joan allowed Vera to pull her along, and down the stairs that came after opening the door. They emerged into a stylish bar with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling and booths dotted along the walls that had velvet seats, and other mismatched furniture which simply fit the aesthetic of the place. The bar stretched from one side of the room to the other, and the back wall was filled with different bottles of alcohol. Four bartenders sauntered around behind the bar, making cocktails and flirting with various patrons. Joan looked over and met Vera’s eyes.

“Alright, I like this already.”

Vera squealed and clapped her hands. “I KNEW you would! I booked us a booth so we wouldn’t be jostled about at the bar.” The two walked forward, Vera giving her name to one of the bartenders, who grinned and practically ran around to meet them and show them their reserved seats.

He handed menus to the both of them, which included cocktails, a wine list, spirits and champagne, and gave them a button, which he placed in the middle of the table. At their confused look, he explained that due to their reserving a table, they would receive table service all night and if they needed anything all they needed to do was press the button and a waitress would be right over.

Vera ordered for the both of them for the first drink, hushing Joan’s protests.

When two large glasses of the classic Sex on the Beach cocktails arrived with the waitress, Joan swallowed any complaints and sipped hers, practically moaning at the taste that the bartender had managed to blend _perfectly._

Vera tried very hard not to replay the sound of that moan in her head, all night. She didn’t succeed.

The pair hadn’t moved for nearly three hours, except to use the bathroom. They’d talked for hours, as they always did, and watched the other people in the bar, enjoying their evening, but not needing to drink to excess. They were clinking their glasses of Screaming Orgasms when Vera froze, eyes fixed on the door to the bar. Joan turned, after looking at her in concern. Three new people had entered, and Joan knew exactly who one was.

 _Will fucking Jackson._ Despite the countless hours of therapy, and the coping techniques and the rage fueled sparring, the sight of his face still made her stomach squeeze with fury. Joan let out a sharp breath through her nose, shifting closer to Vera. Whilst she had not named names regarding what happened to Jianna when she’d told her in more detail, Vera was not an idiot. Very little made Joan react this way, and she knew that either Fletch or Will had something to do with it. Suddenly it clicked. She knew that Will had a previous history in social work in a prison setting. He’d left because something happened after he removed a baby. She suddenly knew exactly why Joan looked like she wanted to launch the table at him.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” Joan is next to her now, and grasps her hand, trying to bring her attention over to her. At her minute nod, everything slotted into place. She’d heard from Joan how the man had insisted on the immediate removal of Jianna’s baby, against prison policy, which required a weaning process where the baby would spend less time with the mother, prior to the permanent removal whilst incarcerated in order for both mother and baby to acclimatise to it. Mr Jackson had walked around for a day, and then insisted on the immediate removal, which is why Joan had spent years tormented by the belief that was what was behind Jianna’s apparent suicide, and the fact that Joan couldn’t stop him. The women that had lynched her had been dealt with, but had admitted that they were waiting for the baby to be taken away in the usual way, not immediately. The story had come tumbling out of Joan’s mouth over a particularly bad day at work on Jianna’s birthday. Vera found she couldn’t fault Joan’s reaction, to Will or to the women who’d hurt her first love. She imagined that she would have reacted in the same way. Vera pressed close to the older woman, slipping an arm around her waist and holding her tightly, noticing how tense her body had become.

“Joan. Hey, look at me. Look at me.” Vera reached out and turned her head towards her, the two so close that their noses touched. Vera held her gaze, breathing steadily and watching the rage and the hurt drain from the older woman’s eyes. In an unexpected move, Joan closed her eyes and moved forward slightly, leaning her forehead against Vera’s, using the woman’s grip on her waist to ground her and to calm her. It would do no good to pick up a chair and impale the man with it, and it would dishonour Jianna’s memory to do such a thing, who had been as nonconfrontational as it was possible to be.

She took a deep breath, and opened her eyes but didn’t move from her position.

Blue eyes gazed into brown.

“You have fantastic eyes. I get to really notice them from this spot.” Vera, quips, making Joan blink, almost forgetting that a person she hates with every ounce of being is stood at the bar.

“Vera Bennett, are you flirting with me?”

“Have been for like three months, but thanks for noticing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh thats a cliffhanger, isnt it?!
> 
> As always, please leave some love in the kudos or a comment, I appreciate every single one and it keeps me going! <3


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vera talks some sense into Joan. 
> 
> *There is discussion of DEATH in this chapter guys.* 
> 
> There is some serious hurt/comfort vibes in this chapter, but its important.  
> I've tried to incorporate accuracy with character reactions, but please remember that this is AU, however I do try to keep the characters reaction-wise as close to canon as possible.

“ _Vera Bennett, are you flirting with me?”_

_“Have been for like three months, but thanks for noticing.”_

* * *

The pair look at each other, not really needing to say anything more. Together, slow smiles spread across both faces, becoming large grins.

“Come on, let’s go. I won’t make you stay here now they’ve arrived, but its time to talk about some stuff.” Vera rubs her nose against Joan’s, making her blink in shock at her boldness and moves back to smack her hand on the button, and within a minute, Katie their waitress has arrived at the table.

The two are soon slinking out of the bar, wandering towards the edge of the promenade, and find a place to sit, enjoying the view of the lights on the water and gentle lapping of the waves.

They stay silent, comfortable for the moment and then Vera sighs, scooting closer to Joan to be able to rest her head on her shoulder. Joan relaxes slightly, and the shorter woman knows the other well enough that she’s probably overthinking what she wanted to talk about. Thinking of every single worst case scenario that could possibly occur.

“I get it, you know?”

Joan sighs as Vera starts to talk, but the feeling of the weight of her cheek resting on the crown of Vera’s head shows that she’s willing to listen, whatever it is she might say.

“I understand why you hate him. Why you’d happily work towards absolutely destroying him in one way or other.” She feels Joan go still. “Because I know you, you always have one hundred plans zooming around in your head at any one time. For all possible scenarios. I’ve got no doubt that you have a plan of what you’ll do if you’re ever put in prison, Joan.” She jokes for the last part.

“You know me far too well, Vera.” Her voice is soft, and Vera can _hear_ the vulnerability showing through, as they sit there, watching the water.

“In the same way you know me.” She points out. “You are one of the best people I’ve ever met, you know? To those you care about, you would give everything for. You show that you care. But I want you to listen to me.” Here, Vera lifts her head, forcing Joan to do the same, and she turns in her seat so that she’s fully facing the black-haired woman. She reaches up to cup both hands on Joan’s cheeks, and looks her in the eye. “Seriously. Listen to me.”

Joan nods, a gesture for her to continue.

“This vendetta you may or may not be planning against Will? _Is not worth it.”_ Vera states. Joan immediately opens her mouth to protest, fire in her eyes again, and tries to move away but Vera doesn’t let her take her face away from her hands. “No. _Listen.”_

The order makes the older woman pause. Vera rarely used the stern tone, Joan had only ever heard her use it once when Erica had phoned to try and insist that she come in on her day off. 

“He is already suffering worse than anything you could think of doing to him. His wife is dead. Murdered in the same prison that he has to go back and work in at the start of next month. He will have to walk through those halls knowing that one of the women in there are responsible, but not knowing who. He will had to deal with seeing a governor that isn’t Meg, and answering to her orders. Believe me, he is feeling everything you felt when Jianna died. He is feeling it now.” Vera makes sure to maintain her eye contact with Joan at the mention of the woman’s first love, making sure that the older woman is listening. “ _Nothing_ you could do to the man will make him feel what he’s feeling now. It is not worth it!” She drops one her hands to grasp at Joan’s hand, the older woman’s fingers immediately curling around hers. Joan drops her chin, making the curled strands fall forward.

“More to the point, Jianna would never have wanted you to do this and possibly put yourself in harms way. I heard a very good saying, once. Revenge gets you nothing except a prison sentence. Do not throw your present and future away on the past. It will do no good and it will change nothing, Joan. So don’t you dare.” Vera’s tone has turned dark, and almost threatening, the quiet anger in it making Joan raise her head to look her in the eyes. The shorter woman’s eyes have flared with fury, almost as if she’s daring Joan to continue with this plot of hers.

“Don’t you dare make me face the possibility of not being able to see you, or laugh with you or kick your ass over something as trivial as payback!” Her hands are back on Joan’s cheeks, pulling her closer to her own face, so close that the two are nose to nose. “An eye for an eye is a blind man’s rule. You aren’t blind. So, enough. _ENOUGH.”_ The last word is stated loudly with the hands on Joan’s face slightly squeezing and then relaxing. Vera looks into the older woman’s dark eyes, making sure that her point has been taken in. She drops her hands and the two remain still for a moment.

Then Joan moves.

Quicker than a fox, she embraces Vera in a hug, the type of hug where you squeeze and imbibe it with all the feeling in the world in an attempt to make the other person understand. Luckily for Joan, Vera understands. Immediately throwing her arms around the older woman’s waist, she squeezes, and Vera can feel the few tears that Joan is crying, one of them drops down her neck, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to.

She knows that Joan has listened. She wouldn’t be crying and giving her the best bear hug she’s ever had if she hadn’t. The older woman sniffs a little, and Vera rubs her hand up and down her back in reassurance.

“I’m not going anywhere. Ever. I promise. I promise you.” Vera doesn’t intend to ever walk away from this magnificent powerhouse of a woman. But even powerhouse women sometimes needed some sense talked into them and a shoulder to cry on to finally feel like it’s okay to let go of a terrible past. Vera turns her head and places a soft kiss on Joan’s cheek, and rubs her back again. With a final squeeze, Joan lets go, using one hand to quickly wipe away any evidence that she’d been crying. The slightly red and watery eyes beg to differ. Vera gently wipes away any mascara that has smudged, noticing how Joan leans into her palm a little.

The two just sit and gaze at each other for a moment, both women calming as both realise that the other is not going to turn and sprint in the opposite direction after their slight squabble. Joan wasn’t sure she’d call it a squabble though. More like a stern and much needed talking to.

“I won’t be nice. You can’t ask that of me, but if I come across him with you, I’ll do my best to be civil.” Joan says, raising an eyebrow. Vera raises hers in return.

“And if I’m not with you?”

“I doubt he actually remembers me from that long ago. I looked completely different. I had a short bob that looked terrible, when I look back on it.” This little quip causes both women to laugh, breaking any uncomfortable tense atmosphere that might have remained after their little ‘discussion.’

“Come on, let’s go home, have a decent cup of tea, and maybe catch up on some Netlfix?” Vera stands, and holds out her hand to Joan, who grabs her clutch bag and then takes the offered hand and the pair begin to walk along the waters edge towards where they know a taxi rank is situated.

They hold hands the entire way, neither willing to release their grip on each other.

Its 1:30am by the time the two walk through Joan’s door, throwing off their shoes, both groaning in appreciation that their feet are not longer needing to walk on stilts. Its not long before Vera had borrowed another pair of pyjamas and both are curled up on the large grey sofa, with a blanket thrown over them as they watch the first episode of Killing Eve in comfortable clothes. As usual, the pair had managed to find a position where they are leaning on one another. Halfway through the episode Vera had shifted and stretched out her legs, and Joan had subtly moved so that she could rest against Vera and still be able to watch the screen. Vera had simply raised an arm to allow Joan to get comfortable and then put it down, curling it around her body as the older woman settled in her spot.

The routine calms the both of them. This is familiar. Its what they know. Perhaps to others, it wouldn’t make sense, but to Joan and Vera, it made perfect sense.

Vera unconsciously runs her fingers through black hair, as the arm that Joan had thrown across her legs tightens slightly. They reach the end of the episode when Vera looks down and sees Joan’s sleeping face, realising that she must have fallen asleep sometime during the end of the episode. Smiling, she reaches over and turns the TV off, thankful that all the lights had been turned off before they’d settled on the sofa. Carefully, she slides the both of them so that they’re lying down, and grabs a pillow discarded on the floor earlier to slip under both their heads. She turns, so that Joan is on the inside of the sofa, and Vera is on the outside. Thankfully, the sofa is large enough to easily accommodate the both of them with no problem. Nobody will be ending up on the floor tonight. Pulling the soft and fluffy blanket so that it covers the both of them, Vera settles, watching as Joan fidgets in her sleep, eventually finding her spot with her head on Vera’s bent arm under her head and her arm curled around her waist, unconsciously pulling her close. Vera simply curls her own arm around Joan’s waist, pulling her much closer and placing a gentle kiss to her hair.

Joan is a sleep-cuddler. She’d found that out the first time she’d stayed over.

She knows that their friendship has passed another line tonight. It felt like the two were becoming ever entwined, and not likely to separate anytime soon. She can’t say that she’s unhappy with that development.

She runs her fingers through Joan’s hair one more time, and then closes her eyes, the sound of soft breathing next to her lulling her to sleep.

It’s Joan who wakes first.

She’s knows immediately that she’s not in her bed, and that there’s someone next to her. She can feel the sofa cushions pressing along her back and the curve of the arm under her head. But the smell of Vera’s perfume is all around her, so she doesn’t panic. She must have fallen asleep during the episode last night and Vera hadn’t wanted to wake her.

She notices the arm around her middle as well as the leg tucked between her thighs. She also notices the fact that her own arm is securely around Vera’s waist and that one of her legs is tossed over the shorter woman’s in a tangle of limbs. Opening her eyes, she sees that Vera’s face is close to hers, her hair an explosion of curls, some miniscule black smears under her eyes where she hadn’t quite managed to wash off the mascara. Her mouth is slightly open, and her breaths are warming her nose.

She thinks back to last night, and the way Vera had held her face as she admitted that she didn’t want Joan hurt by any attempts at revenge against Will Jackson. How she didn’t want to possibly lose her over any consequences that might come from such a plot.

She was right, though. As much as Joan hated the idea of simply giving up, Vera was absolutely right. 

He was suffering more than ever with the loss of his wife, and Joan would be lying if she said that she didn’t feel a little satisfaction that he now knew what it had felt like for her. What more could she even do to him, that would make him feel anything like he was now?

No. Vera was right. It was time to let it go. And it was true that Jianna would have hated it. She’d always wanted her happy, and safe. She had told her so in the past, more than once. Joan liked to think that Jianna would have liked Vera, had she met her. But it was time to let her go. Along with the poisonous idea of vengeance. It would help nobody.

She enjoyed the feeling of Vera’s arm around her. Despite the height difference, Vera made her feel safe. Secure. Happier than she’d been in a long time.

It was time to live in the present.

Chancing a look at the large clock hanging on the wall opposite the sofa, she sees its only 7am.

_To hell with it, I’m going back to sleep._

She doesn’t try to separate their legs, she only adjusts her grip on Vera’s waist so that she can pull her closer. She also moves her head off of her arm and carefully moves it so that Vera doesn’t wake up with a dead arm.

Snuggling back up to the curly haired woman, she sighs happily and closes her eyes, her heart feeling lighter than it had since Jianna’s death.

Vera wakes up.

The weight of Joan is still next to her, softly snoring with her face shoved into her chest, her black hair spilling around the pillow and Vera’s neck. She notices that Joan’s arm hasn’t moved from its position at her waist, and Vera’s is still wrapped around the older woman’s. She smiles as she hears the mumblings coming from her sleeping partner.

“…mfh…mornin’.” Comes the mumble, but no movement from the black haired woman.

Vera chuckles.

Joan was not a morning person, whatsoever. She liked the give the impression that she was, but truthfully, the woman was not coherent most days until she’d had breakfast and at least two cups of coffee.

Vera, on the other hand, adored mornings. She liked the prospect of a new day, a fresh start. She usually started each day with a piece of fruit and a small cup of coffee and would be ready to face whatever the day threw at her.

“psst…Joan.” She whispers. No movement or sound came from the woman. Vera tried again. “Joan.”

“Mh.” Well, it was some sort of answer at least.

“You want a coffee?” Vera asks, expecting her answer to be yes. Instead, the woman surprises her.

“Don’t move. Comfortable.” Joan was turning down an offer for caffeine because Vera was comfortable? Vera felt the warmth spread through her at Joan’s answer, feeling a little excited.

“Come on…” She teases her. “Nobody can make you an americano like me.”

THAT got a reaction. Joan’s head lifts, and she meets Vera’s gaze, hair stuck up in all different directions, some parts straight and some still curly from the night before. Vera thinks she looks adorable.

“Well, seeing as you’re twisting my arm.” She says, noticing Vera’s lips perk up into a grin. The shorter woman gives Joan’s waist one last squeeze, making the woman smile and then she slipped out of the nest they appeared to have made on the sofa of blankets and pillows. Joan doesn’t move after Vera gets up, she simply rearranges some pillows so that she’s half laying, half sitting and still very comfortable.

A few minutes later, she returns, triumphantly holding two large mugs of steaming liquid. One an americano, the other a regular coffee. Joan lifts the blanket and Vera slips in next to her and settles as the black-haired woman throws the blanket over her. Vera gets comfortable and hands the mug to Joan and blows on her own before taking a sip.

“Thank you.” Joan says lowly, her voice only barely above a whisper.

“You’re welcome.” Vera acknowledges what she’s thanking her for. “I will hold you to your non-verbal promise.”

Joan leans her head on her shoulder, careful not to jostle either mug of coffee.

“I would expect nothing less of you, Vera.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Kudos and Comments keep me going! :)


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vera gets a new uniform, and Joan is very appreciative.  
> Erica Davidson pisses off her Deputy even more which leads to an interesting sparring session and very good results for our two ladies. 
> 
> *warnings for swearing!

The two women became closer after the night out that turned into a night in. Both women felt comfortable with each other, as they had done for months, but now Vera thought nothing of hugging Joan at any given moment. The same could be said for the taller woman. Vera found herself being tucked into the older woman’s side more often than not, and didn’t want it to stop.

Joan became the safe place Vera would retreat to when work became too much. And in return, Vera became the place that Joan could completely relax and know that the curly haired woman wasn’t going anywhere. That wasn’t to say that either woman went easy on the other during their sparring. Now that Vera had caught up and was confident in her skills, sparring became a game of high intensity flirting. Not that either woman would admit to it out loud.

Joan had taken Vera to her seamstress to get her new pairs of work trousers tailored to her body shape, and brought along her work blazers too. Vera had to admit, the newly fitted uniform filled her with confidence, and it reflected in the way she held herself. Knowing that she would be able to use what she’d learnt to defend herself, if it ever came to that, whilst keeping her dignity intact helped mould her into a stronger woman. A woman that didn’t let fear overtake her in any situation. She hadn’t needed to use any of her skills yet, but it was a reassuring to know that she could use them if the situation called for it. The fact that Joan had eyed her up and down appreciatively when she modelled the altered uniform in front of her to ask for her truthful opinion also helped. The black-haired woman hadn’t bothered to hide her appreciation of her figure that the black uniform now highlighted. Vera had noticed, and had winked at her when she’d noticed that Joan had been staring at her behind for a tad too long.

When Vera had walked into work the day after she collected her new uniforms, the other officers had heard her before they saw her. The confident _click, click, click_ of her heels announced her arrival and every officer in the break-room froze, not knowing what to do or say as the newly attired Deputy Bennett walked through the door. She’d thrown her small, clear plastic wallet into her locker, the pocket making a dull thud as it landed on the top shelf. She’d taken a leaf out of Joan’s book for work. She’d slimmed down what she took, and now only carried her car keys, purse and her mobile into the building, which she locked every time she closed it. It made life so much easier than lugging around the ridiculously large plastic tote that she previously used.

The deputy had nodded and said good morning to everyone that had been in the break-room, and had then spun on her heel, yanking at the bottom of the jacket and then smoothing any creases that may have appeared as she sauntered out into the corridor to make her way up to the governor’s office.

She had interviews to do with Governor Davidson today for a new part time officer.

Joan had finished early in the afternoon, and after catching up with what little housework she had, she’d sat in the corner of her sofa and turned her copy of Great Expectations to the first page. She sat there for about an hour, diving into the world of Miss Havisham and the gothic imagery, and then her phone pinged with a message at around 3pm. She knew without even looking that it was Vera.

Looking up, she watched as her screen lit up again, highlighting that she had a message from _The Missus._ Joan had never changed the name after she’d dislocated her shoulder, and neither had Vera. Whenever Joan texted the curly haired woman, the contact always showed as _The Wife_ , and both women couldn’t bring themselves to change it.

Joan placed the book by her side, after bending the page in the top hand corner and reached over to grab her phone, pressing the button and entering the pin to read the message.

_Please tell me you’re willing to go to the Studio tonight._

Joan’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. She knew from talking to Vera this morning over text that the woman was looking forward to her shift today, due to the fact that they were interviewing candidates for a new part time position at the prison. The deputy had advised for more than one, but Erica Davidson apparently thought otherwise and had ignored her deputy.

_I also might need a favour._

Joan answered her without thinking.

_Of course, what do you need?_

_Could you pick up my workout bag from my apartment? And then meet me at the Studio after my shift?_

Joan smiled down at her phone. As if she’d needed to ask.

_No problem, is it still on the chair in your room? What time do you finish?_

_Pink bag, everything is already in it. I was supposed to finish at 10pm, but after the fuckery that’s just happened I’m taking back every hour they owe me that I can, so I’ll be finishing at four._

The black-haired woman paused before replying. Something had obviously happened, and Joan would bet her fencing pommel that it had something to do with Erica Davidson and the interviews today.

Joan decided that perhaps it was easier to simply call the deputy, something that they had yet to do during work hours, but she found her fingers pulling up the contact information and pressing the green ‘call’ button before she could stop.

Holding up the phone to her ear, she waited, listening to the ringing tone.

“ _Hello?”_

Joan frowned at the annoyance in the woman’s voice. She knew that it wasn’t aimed at her, but whatever had happened had annoyed Vera enough that she was being short in her speech, something she usually avoided, saying that it reminded her too much of a tactic her mother used to use.

“Are you alright?” Is the first question out of Joan’s mouth, worry shooting through her.

“ _Physically, I’m fine.”_ Vera sighed into the phone. “ _I swear she wants to see a riot happen whilst she’s in office. That or she’s trying to get every single officer to hate her.”_

Joan had guessed correctly, then. Something had happened with Erica Davidson.

“I’ll meet you at half four at the studio and you can kick the shit out of something.” Joan promised, hearing the relieved sigh that Vera let out. “Don’t let her get to you, you’re bloody good at what you do.”

Vera laughed, sounding more like herself. “ _On a happier note, I think some of the officers had a heart attack when they saw that The Wife was calling me!”_

Joan feels better hearing the woman’s laugh.

“I aim to please, darling!”

The pair laughed, until Vera regretfully had to go to finish some last minute paperwork so she could leave at 4pm on the dot and avoid bumping into the current Governor of Wentworth.

Vera didn’t think the woman would survive another showdown with her today if they crossed paths. Neither would Fletch.

The man apparently couldn’t take a hint that she wasn’t interested and if he carried on, Vera was likely to body-slam him into one of the solitary cells for some peace and quiet.

Once the two said their goodbyes, Joan immediately grabbed the spare key to Vera’s apartment and went to grab the bag she’d asked for.

By half four, Vera was pulling smoothly into the parking space next to Joan’s car and walked into the reception to find Joan chatting with Kevin, asking about a move that his brother had learnt.

The man behind the desk whistled and clapped his hands at the sight of Vera.

“Well look at you darl!” He stood and indicated with his hand for her to turn in order to get a good look at her new uniform, which she did. “If I didn’t have a boyfriend and I wasn’t gayer than the entire cast of Queer Eye put together, you’d have some competition on your hands, Joanie!”

Joan stared at him, blushing a bright red as Vera stepped closer to the taller woman, and wrapped a loose arm around her waist, Joan covering the hand that rested on her middle without a second thought. 

“Sorry Kev, you wouldn’t stand a chance. You haven’t got her ass or her hair.” Vera stated smoothly, winked at him and swiped her card, not bothering with the fire register seeing that Joan had already written her name on the line next to hers. She turned to walk towards the changing rooms, gently pulling at the woman currently in shock next to her and maintaining her hold on the woman’s middle the entire time as they walked towards the room.

“My ass or my hair, hm?”

“Damn right.” Vera didn’t explain further, but squeezed the woman’s waist, and got a hand squeeze in return.

By the time the clock was showing that it was 5:30pm, both women were still going at it. The only difference now was that Vera was ranting as she moved, which in Joan’s opinion was _hilarious._

The sparring had steadily gotten more deliberate, and slightly rougher than usual, although Vera knew that if it got beyond what her partner was comfortable with, Joan would tell her. The taller woman kept up with her, and would freely admit that seeing Vera wind her legs around her neck and pin her to the floor with her head still between her thighs was _the sexiest thing she’d ever seen._

Both women gave as good as they got, with a silent agreement that if it got to be too much that all they had to do was say so.

“I mean, she was the perfect FUCKING CANDIDATE! OOF!” Vera ranted, landing on her backside, and quickly avoiding the foot that came flying at her. She rushed to her feet, blocking Joan’s hand aimed at her ribs.

“But no! Little miss Governor fucking Davidson wanted the pretty boy with NO EXPERIENCE AND LOOKED LIKE HE BARELY STARTED TO SHAVE!” Vera grabbed at Joan’s ankle and yanked it towards her, causing the taller woman to stumble and fall to one knee. Vera took her chance and launched herself at her partner, who caught her smoothly and pinned her on her back. “She turned away a 25 year old, part time PhD student with previous prison experience for a 20 year old with steroid muscles!” She yelled as Joan held a steady but gentle hand across her sternum.

Using her arms, Vera refused to allow Joan to keep her pinned for long. She flipped them, so that Joan was below her, and she straddled her waist. “So fucking STUPID!”

WHAM! 

Joan used the same move and flipped them again, the thud reverberating around the room. “How long is she doing a PhD for?”

“6 years, because its part time too.” Vera’s eyes followed the small locks of hair that had been pulled loose, bobbing around Joan’s head as she moved. She waited for a moment, feigning relaxation, waiting for Joan to think that she’d allow this pin. "We could have had her for six years AT LEAST!" She whines.

Joan moved her hand.

WHUMF!

Joan lay on her back looking slightly dazed that the shorter woman had spun her onto her back again. Vera straddling her waist, and the both of them had sparkling eyes from the exercise and the hilarity of the entire situation. Vera was leaned over, so that their noses were practically touching, and the two stared and grinned at each other for a moment.

The air seemed to fizzle with electricity between them.

“Don’t hate me for this.” Vera whispered, making Joan look at her in confusion.

“What-“

Her words are cut off as Vera connects her lips to Joan’s and _finally all that electricity and comfortableness around each other made perfect sense._

Joan gently wraps an arm around her waist and cups her face with a small moan, opening her lips to allow Vera access. Gripping Joan’s neck with a gentle hold, Vera smiles into the kiss as the pair move in synchronized movement, enjoying the moment that has been building for months.

Joan sits up, not breaking the kiss and pulls Vera closer, the younger woman not protesting at all as they sit on the floor of the space that brought them together in the first place as they explore each other with grins and small relieved laughs.

They break apart, breathless and Vera rests her forehead against Joan’s, with her eyes closed.

“Wow.” Joan whispers. “How long have you been holding back on me?”

Vera laughs. “About three months now.”

“As if I would ever hate you.” The black-haired woman whispers, reaching up to grasp Vera’s cheeks, pulling back to press a gentle kiss on her cheek, and then behind her ear, making the curly haired woman shiver in the best of ways.

They’re quiet for a moment until they hear muffled raucous cheering coming from beyond the door. Both woman turn their heads to gaze through the small glass window, seeing Kevin jumping around on the other side of the door, dancing and cheering for all he’s worth.

He yanks open the door, and dances in the doorway, some strange combination of the macarena and a cancan, it seems.

“ITS ABOUT BLOODY TIME, LADIES!”

Joan and Vera share a heated look, and dissolve into laughter, slumping back onto the floor and keeping a grasp on each other’s hands. 

It felt right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and a kudos lovely people! 
> 
> I’m loving this story so far, and I’m enjoying my the writing process so thank you for the support you’ve given me so far ❤️❤️


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan and Vera go home, and spend some quality time together, and Vera tries to hide the Shiraz. 
> 
> It doesn't work.
> 
> Includes some good food, a good deed, and mentions of an overpowered toaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, it's a second update in a week! You lucky devils, you! 
> 
> Please be warned, it gets a little steamy. But its not rated R, yet.

The two lay there on the floor, side by side as Kevin’s cheering faded away as he wandered back to his desk at the reception area.

They didn’t need to speak, but Joan’s hand reached out, shyly finding Vera’s next to her and grasping it, making the curly haired woman’s smile spread across her face. She turned her head, finding Joan already looking at her, with a gentle look in her eyes.

“Are you seriously telling me that I could have taken you to dinner three months ago and you would have accepted?” She asks, watching for the reaction of the woman next to her.

“I would have enjoyed whatever you wanted to do as a date. Although, your cooking is probably better than most restaurants in this city.” Vera squeezes her hand gently, laughing softly.

“High praise, indeed.”

“You cook me that pasta dish with the sauce and the cheese, you could probably lead me anywhere.” Vera grins as the black-haired woman bursts into quiet laughter, shuffling closer to her, but still staying on her back with her legs bent, and her bare feet on the floor. They lay on the floor, shoulders pressed against each other, with their hands entwined.

“Tell me more about this candidate that Erica turned away for the pretty boy?” Joan asks, a plan forming in her head. It was a coincidence that Bahnhurst had a job opening for a part time officer, and it would be a shame to see an experienced individual disappear into the ether because Erica Davidson was an idiot.

“She’s starting a part time PhD in September, but she’d like to continue a job in corrections to keep her experience up to par. She’s come over from the UK to do it and she’s worked in prisons since she was 20 in London, both male and female. She was absolutely perfect for the job.” Vera sighs, and rolls onto her side, careful not to jostle Joan. “This absolute child has no previous experience, except working a paper route and a Saturday job in a shop. I tried to stop her, but she pulled rank.”

_She what?_

“I’m sorry she pulled rank?” At Vera’s nod, Joan continued, anger in her tone. “Over a hiring decision, she pulled rank? Jesus, you’re absolutely right, I think the woman wants a riot to happen with her staff.” Vera looked at her, waiting for her to continue. “If he agrees to take the job, he might find his time very difficult if it gets out that the Governor ignored the very wise goddamn advice of her deputy. STUPID!” Joan’s tense speech had turned into a rant, making Vera grin in amusement at how the tables had turned.

“She had pristine references too.”

Joan turned on her side. “Is Davidson an idiot? I mean, I knew that she had no common sense, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad.”

Vera sighed unhappily. “I don’t know how safe I’d feel working with him on a shift. It wont take long for everyone to figure out how green he is.”

Joan frowned at her statement, not liking that Vera was already needing to plan for the worst scenario or that she could be put in a dangerous situation over an inexperienced individual. She quickly leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Vera’s lips in reassurance, making the deputy’s mouth quirk up into a happy smile.

They lay there for a few moments, simply gazing at each other, with dopey smiles on their faces.

“Dinner at mine tonight?”

“You know that I’ll never refuse your cooking.” Vera rubs her nose against Joan’s, making the woman crinkle her nose and laugh lowly at the tickling sensation.

With a satisfied groan, Vera pulls herself up into a sitting position and then to her feet, never letting go of Joan’s hand. She helps the woman to her feet, and without a second thought throws an arm around the taller woman’s waist, and Joan winds her own arm around Vera. Together, they grab their respective bags, deciding to shower at home, and when they’re stood by Kevin, talking as they usually do when they leave together, a blonde walks in, a slumped air about her posture.

Vera breathes in sharply. “Sophie.” The woman’s head shoots up and she quickly recognises the curly haired woman, even in her tight fitting clothes and her hair in a braid (quickly but tidily done with gentle hands by Joan before leaving their sparring room).

“Miss Bennet.” She says, a polite smile on her face. “I’ve just got off the phone with the Governor, she was explaining that you’ve decided to go with someone with more experience.” The disappointment laces her tone, and its obvious that the young woman was more upset than she was letting on.

Vera practically vibrated with anger and indignation. So not only was Erica an easily led idiot, she was also a liar. “What a load of shit.”

Startled, the blonde stared at her. “Pardon?” The gentle accent stood out as she looked in confusion between both women.

Joan squeezes Vera’s hip before letting go. “Sophie, is it?” At the woman’s nod, she continues to speak. “I have a need for a part time officer at Bahnhurst Prison.”

Vera’s gaze shot to Joan’s face, wondering what she was doing but half knowing exactly what the woman was planning. She knew Joan well enough to know that she never acted on a plan that was half thought out. Vera knew that the black haired woman was meticulous about details and potential consequences of decisions.

“Seeing as the governor of Wentworth ignored the sound advice of her deputy, Miss Bennet here, to take you on, I’m offering you the chance to interview for the position. Interested?” She turned to rummage through her gym-bag, looking for her purse, knowing that she kept a few spare business cards in there. Finding one, she offered it to the blonde in front of her, who’s posture had straightened and she took the business card without hesitation.

“I’m in work in the afternoon tomorrow, so give me a call at about 4, and I can let you know the details for where and when.”

The blonde’s face broke into a wide smile. “Thank you so much!” She glanced down at the card and noticed the _Governor_ in front of Joan’s name on the shiny surface, her eyes widening at the difference between the Governor of Wentworth and that of Bahnhurst. The woman in front of her, even in gym clothes, gave off the aura that she was in charge, something she felt that Erica Davidson struggled with even in her designed clothes. “Governor, thank you. Miss Bennet, thank you as well for making me feel more at ease today, it was appreciated. I won’t keep you, you both are obviously on your way out. Have a good night.” She smiled at them, and nodded once, and then stepped back to allow them space to pass, which both the older women did with an answering smile.

Together, the two walked past, Vera offering a reassuring thumbs up and a smile, whereas Joan simply smiled, as she wound her arm back around Vera’s waist.

The door shut as the blonde moved back towards the desk, meeting Kevin’s gaze as he grinned at her.

“Darl, if that doesn’t convince you to get a membership here, nothing else will. Those two are powerhouses, together and separately, and you can only learn from them.”

Sophie grinned back. She’d come in after the disappointing but expected phone call from Erica Davidson, wanting to know prices for membership or a pay-as-you-go deal in the Studio. She was going to be living in Melbourne for the next six years at least, it was better to find a good place early and get used to it. However, having met both Miss Bennet and Governor Ferguson here, there was no chance she was going to let the opportunity to get to know both women slip from her hands.

Deputy Bennet had reassured her before the interview this afternoon, offering her tea, a kind smile and little advice to keep calm. She’d not liked Erica Davidson as soon as she’d sat in the seat opposite her, the woman appearing too full of her own authority and self-worth, and proving with her questions, that she hadn’t bothered to read over the answers she’d written on the application. Sophie also noticed how the woman didn’t wear the uniform of a Governor, wearing designer label clothes from head to toe instead. Deputy Vera Bennet on the other hand, had asked relevant questions, concerning her time at Holloway and Aylesbury Prison in the UK, and had wanted to know more about her upcoming PhD and what research she would be doing. The blonde had also noticed that the deputy’s uniform fit her well, obviously tailored, and showed the pride she had in wearing it.

Sophie hadn’t gotten as far as she had by being unobservant. She’d noticed the size of the young man that had walked out before her, and how he appeared conventionally attractive for a man. She’d also noticed the smile and tone that the governor had thanked him for coming with and knew that her chances were slim from the beginning.

That didn’t mean the phone call and the faux disappointed tone hadn’t rankled her, though.

She wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Kev, sign me up for a monthly membership.” She grinned at him, and watched as he nodded and happily began to fill out the form to input her onto the system.

She couldn’t _wait_ to call Governor Ferguson tomorrow.

* * *

“That was a really nice thing you did.” Vera said, after flinging her bag into the backseat of her car. She knew exactly what Joan was planning on as soon as the woman had asked her first question.

Joan had the temerity to look a little contrite. “I’m sorry for stealing your prodigy from under your nose, but you don’t find an officer like that every day.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad that she’ll actually get to carry on doing a job she loves, in a well maintained prison.” Vera was telling the truth. Whilst she would have loved to hire Sophie Harris, she would flourish under Joan’s employment and would probably enjoy her job more than if she were at Wentworth. Erica had a very good way of getting on people’s nerves, and Sophie seemed the type to not appreciate two-faced dealings of any kind. When asked what type of person she was, the blonde had answered with _‘what you see, is what you get,’_ and a definitive nod. Vera could appreciate that type of person, Erica couldn’t.

Vera leaned back against her car door, eyeing up the woman in front of her who had opened her own door and was simply balancing her hand on the metal roof whilst looking back at her.

“What will you make, do you think?” The curly haired woman asked.

“Hm, well somebody said something about pasta with a lovely tomato sauce and cheese earlier…” Joan’s voice trailed off as she raised an eyebrow. 

“Ah, I’ll bring the Shiraz from my fridge then.” The deputy waited for Joan’s answer.

“You bloody well will not!”

Vera guffawed at the woman’s response and at her pure hatred of the wine, the sound causing Joan’s lips to pull into a grin.

“You bring shiraz and I swear you can watch me pour the entire bottle down the drain.” The black haired woman threatened, brandishing her keys at her in a playful manner.

“Alright, alright!” Vera pushed off her car and reached down to open the door. “ I’ll see you in a bit?”

Joan’s eyed softened and she smiled gently. “I’m sure you’ll let yourself in when you smell the cheese going on the top to melt in the oven. How you manage to know that from your apartment, I’ll never know.”

“It’s a gift, I’m not proud of it.” Vera quipped, dropping into the driver’s seat but not closing the door.

“Yes you are!” Joan smiled at her as she pulled her car door closed, Vera mirroring her action. Both women pulled out of their spaces, Joan following Vera out of the car park.

Vera flies through her apartment when she gets home, dumping the contents of her gym-bag into the laundry hamper in the bathroom and throwing herself into the shower.

Soon enough, she’s letting herself in to Joan’s apartment, the low tones of ABBA drifting through the older woman’s home. Walking through to the kitchen, she isn’t surprised to see the woman humming along to the song Fernando, whilst swaying gently as she stirs a small pot of pasta-sauce, occasionally tasting it.

Leaning against the doorframe, Vera is content to watch.

Joan continues to stir, occasionally reaching over to sprinkle some ingredient or other into the pot, still humming.

“Are you going to come and help, or are you going to stand in the doorway all night?” She asks without turning around, making the curly haired woman jump.

“You have eyes in the back of your head, I swear.” Vera answers, not moving from the doorway.

“No, I just know you.” Joan turns towards her, beckoning her with one hand, the other still stirring gently. “Come here, I need you to taste this.”

Vera obliges, placing the bottle of wine on the counter, out of the way. She approaches Joan, who apparently thinks she is taking too long, and gently wraps her arm around her when she’s within reaching distance and draws her near.

She holds up a wooden spoon with a small amount of sauce on it.

Obliging the woman, Vera opens her mouth, and allows the spoon to be led to her lips.

Her eyes widen at the taste.

“You’ve changed the recipe. I don’t know what that is, but THAT is lovely.” Vera leans forward to lick the spoon for the rest of the sauce.

“That better not be Shiraz on my counter.”

Vera leans forward, careful to avoid the wooden spoon, and presses a kiss to the corner of Joan’s mouth. 

“I promise, I come bearing Pinot.”

Joan glances over her shoulder, and sure enough in large letters on the front, the label clearly states PINOT. The fact that the word is written in handwritten capital letters, (and is very obviously Vera’s handwriting) in black Sharpie, on a ripped white label sellotaped over the original is besides the point. It makes her grin, all the same.

She leans forward herself, pressing a playful kiss under Vera’s ear lobe, and moving a little closer to her lips every time she spoke, the shorter woman’s breaths coming heavier with each kiss.

“Luckily…there’s…merlot…in…the…fridge.” The final word is punctuated with a deep kiss to the curly haired woman’s lips, Vera quickly wrapping her arms around the woman’s neck and pressing her body along Joan’s. The kiss is heated, Joan reciprocating as much as Vera.

Vera doesn’t notice that Joan moves the pan off the heat of the stove, and turns the bright red ring off, so that the glass surface only shows a large red ‘H’ to warn of it’s heat. She’s too busy thinking about how Joan’s tongue can move so well. Carefully, the black-haired woman turns her body and then walks forward, so that Vera’s back is pushed against the counter, her hands in Joan’s hair and a thigh pushed between the taller woman’s legs.

Joan pulls Vera’s hair free from the braid that she had put in it, allowing the drying curls to bounce free, so she can run a gentle hand through the locks. Vera slips one hand up the back of Joan’s soft cashmere v-neck sweater, feeling the hot skin of the woman’s lower back on her palm and enjoying the small shudder of pleasure that shoots through her.

They stay there, leaned up against the counter, hands reaching and small moans now coming from the both of them, until Vera’s stomach growls.

They pause, swollen lips and heavily lidded eyes look down in shock, frozen in their positions. Vera’s hand has slipped into the back of Joan’s leggings and underneath the woman’s lace underwear, and is firmly palming one cheek, whilst Joan’s hands had been occupied, one in her hair, and one gently resting just underneath her right breast.

They catch their breath, and meet each other’s gaze. And then they laugh.

“Alright, I can take a hint.” Pressing one last gentle kiss to Vera’s grinning lips, she untangles her hand from her hair, and drops her right hand to her side, causing a small, involuntary whine to come from Vera.

Joan notices. “All in good time, darling.” And she winks as she turns to place the cooling pan of sauce back on the stovetop to finish cooking it. “Will you grab the bottle of merlot from the fridge? It should be in the door.”

“I can help, if you’d like.” Vera offers, already knowing Joan’s answer.

“Vera, I think the world of you,” The woman turns, pausing in her stirring. “But last week you managed to set off my fire alarms by burning toast.” She smirks playfully.

“I told you, your toaster is overpowered.”

“Mhm, of course it is.” Joan watches as Vera saunters over to the fridge and pulls the unopened bottle of wine from the door, reaching out to grab two wine glasses from their home on the shelf automatically. “The fact that you own the exact same toaster is beside the point.”

The wine cork is removed, with only a small grunt of effort from Vera.

“You’ll just have to keep cooking and feeding me then.” She says as she brings over Joan’s glass.

“I have no problem with that.” The older woman leans over to press a kiss to her forehead, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments! They really keep me going! <3


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our ladies discuss work and have some fun.
> 
> Vera puts her foot down with Fletcher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ON A ROLL, GUYS GALS AND NON-BINARY PALS!
> 
> SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER.

Following a very successful interview, Joan had hired Sophie Harris on the spot. The young woman took to the job like a fish to water, finding her place among the staff very quickly and becoming liked by the inmates almost immediately. Joan watched her for the first few shifts, to make sure that she could handle the women of Bahnhurst, but Sophie had a way of stopping fights or trouble with a simple sentence stated in a firm tone. The women respected her stance, and Sophie respected their autonomy (what limited amount they had).

She rather reminded Joan of herself when she was younger. At twenty five, Joan had mastered the art of non-physical intervention with inmates, and had improved the skill since then in her years on the job. It was a better solution than brandishing handcuffs, a baton or pepper spray every time, and was more effective at defusing situations.

“I hope you know that I’m jealous that you have her.” Vera had said, one night about a week later, as they were sat on her sofa, sipping mugs of tea. The pair alternated spending their evenings in each other’s apartment. Seeing as they’d spent the previous night in Joan’s, sleeping included, meant that it was Vera’s turn.

“So is the pretty boy still alive, then?” Joan answered, genuinely curious to know. The young man had started his job about two days after the interview.

Vera frowned. Elliot Mathews, following days of solid training for the position, had started his first day on the job with sauntering into the break-room halfway through a morning brief, with his phone to his ear and talking loudly. Fletcher appeared to like him immediately, but Will obviously didn’t. Neither did Linda, as the look she’d sent him could curdle milk.

Will had been back for around six weeks and there was a considerable difference in the man, which was to be expected. Vera had reassured him that she was there if he needed anything. The man had smiled and thanked her, and then asked who was the new guy in her life that was making her more confident and happy. He’d grinned at her when she corrected him, saying that she had a new girl in her life.

Linda had pulled her to one side after her shift had ended and asked whether or not she could arrange her shifts so that she wouldn’t be working with Elliot.

“After seeing what he was like in one shift?!” Joan had asked, open-mouthed when Vera had come home and told her over dinner. “Is he that bad?”

“According to multiple people, he hasn’t taken in anything from the training, the way he speaks to the women is appalling and Fletcher apparently thinks he’s amazing.” Vera shook her head. “That’s never a good sign.”

“How does he speak to the prisoners?”

“Like they’re lower than dirt. He’s going to end up with a sharpened spoon stuck in his throat if he isn’t careful.”

Joan shakes her head. “That’s a dangerous game to be playing. There’s a difference between being firm or showing who’s in charge and being patronising. Has Erica noticed?”

“Course she hasn’t.” Vera scoffs, her face scrunched up in annoyance. “She’s too busy looking at his backside.” Joan gently takes her hand and squeezes in reassurance. Vera leans closer into the woman in response, not letting go of her hand.

“Has Fletcher taken the hint that you aren’t interested yet?”

Vera shook her head. “I can handle him though.”

“I know, but I just worry, is all.”

Vera nods, and leans forward to place her empty mug on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

“I know you do, which I adore about you.” Vera places a gently kiss to Joan’s chin, causing the woman to turn her head down and press a kiss to her smiling lips. “If he tries anything, I’ll put him through a wall, I don’t care.”

The two giggle as Joan’s dark red lipstick leaves stains, showing where the older woman leaves tender kisses. Hands tangle in black hair, and soon there are lipstick marks all down Vera’s neck, leading down to her cleavage as Joan draws moans from the woman with her hands, trailing her fingers down her body, brushing gently across stiffened nipples through her shirt and thin lace bra, and drawing the shorter woman between her legs to bring her closer. Vera has her hands down the back of Joan’s cigarette trousers, having pulled the tucked in black blouse away from the waistband to give her access to Joan’s fabulous behind. Nimble fingers dance across the waistband of lace underwear, as Joan plays with the waistband of Vera’s leggings. She starts to dip her fingers into the front of the curly haired woman’s underwear, drawing a breathy moan from the shorter woman, as Vera squeezes one hand on Joan’s backside, and pulls her lips back to the taller woman’s.

Just as Joan’s fingers start to go lower, there’s a loud banging knock on Vera’s apartment door.

The pair freeze and look at each other in confusion. 

“Are you expecting anyone?” Joan asked, Vera looking at her in confusion and shaking her head.

Vera climbed off Joan, not bothering to right her clothing and goes to the door, looking through the peephole.

“What the hell?” She murmurs, seeing Fletcher stood outside her door, swaying in place slightly. Growling under her breath, she lets the peephole cover slide back down, checks that both locks are in place and walks away from the door, not willing to engage Fletcher with whatever idiocy he’s trying to achieve by finding out where she lives and just appearing outside.

Joan was sat up on the sofa when she returned back to the living room, and stood in the doorway, with a look of confusion on her face. She turned and looked at her, one arm on the back of the sofa.

“Who was it?”

“Fletcher. I didn’t bother answering the door. Nothing good can come from him turning up unannounced and I’m not going to encourage it.”

Another knock sounded from the door and the calling of Vera’s name. Both women looked in the direction of the door. Vera walked back to the sofa, and dropped into the cushion next to Joan, grabbing her phone from the coffee table, and then snuggling up to the other woman, who still looks as disheveled as she did when Vera had left her to look who the person knocking was.

Opening her phone, she quickly drafts a text to Will, telling him to come collect Fletch before she throws him through a window.

_He’s at your apartment?_

_YES. MY NEW PLACE! COME GET HIM. NOW PLEASE._

_On my way – 10 mins._

She’d informed Will that she’d moved in case of emergency, but he hadn’t told anyone else, simply because he didn’t need to. Which left her wondering how the hell Fletch had found out.

Joan adjusted her arm, bringing it up to wrap around Vera’s shoulders when the woman snuggled closer. Another set of knocking came from the front door, followed by Fletcher calling that he could tell that she was home.

“He carries on, I might answer the door and tell him exactly where he can go with his weird behaviour, darling.”

Vera looks up at her, smiling. “Darling?” She watches as a small blush creeps across Joan’s cheeks.

“What else could you possibly be? I’m not calling you babe.” She states, a grimace on her face as she spits the word ‘babe.’

Vera shakes her head, knowing that the both of them thought the moniker was childish.

“I’m more than happy to be your darling.” She presses a kiss to the woman’s cheek, and rests her head on her shoulder. “But only if you’ll be my sweetheart.” Joan laughs, and Vera can feel her grin on the top of her head.

“Will I get to wear your letterman jacket at school?” She quips, making Vera giggle.

“No but I’ll wear your work blazer though.”

The image of Vera wearing her work jacket and nothing else shoots through Joan’s mind, causing a thrill of desire to shoot through her.

“Is that a promise?” She breathes into the woman’s ear, making her shiver in delight.

Vera raises her head to answer, when another knock comes from the door and Fletcher calling for her.

“Oh for God’s sake!” Joan growls in frustration, flinging a dirty look in the direction of the front door. Vera suppresses a laugh.

Vera’s phone buzzes with a request from Will to buzz him in, which she shows to Joan who gets to her feet and walks over to the intercom and presses the button without prompting from Vera. She waits for a moment, and then goes to the front door, looking through the peephole to see the elevator doors behind the swaying man at the end of the corridor open and an angry looking Will Jackson storms out, making a beeline towards Fletcher. When Joan can see that Jackson has a grip on Fletcher she yanks open the door, coming face to face with the tipsy prison officer.

Both men are surprised to see her, with rumpled clothing and a glare that could melt steel with the heat of it trained on Fletcher. Will pulls his friend back by the scruff of his shirt, and begins to whisper furiously at him about idiotic ideas.

Vera has come up behind her and rests her hand on the small of Joan’s back, watching Will manhandle Fletcher away from the both of them.

“Who’s she, Vera?!” Fletcher says, looking vaguely angry and stinking of alcohol.

“What are you doing here Fletch?” She asked, acid in her tone. She’d been pulled away from the very attractive woman next to her, who made her feel confident, wanted and attractive to deal with the man who couldn’t get his act together standing outside her front door. She wasn’t impressed.

“Er…yeah…I wanted to know if you wanted to go out...tonight?” He’s stuttering slightly, noticing that the curly haired deputy of Wentworth is stood in front of him, hair disheveled and red lipstick marks trailing down her neck from her mouth. He watches Vera’s facial expression morph from a simple raised eyebrow to annoyance and glare, the woman next to her looking at him as if he were a gnat on her windscreen.

“How did you even find where I live?”

“Well…I went to your house. Or well, your mum’s house now I guess. She gave me the address.” He looked at her forehead, trying to not to think on why Vera might have lipstick marks all over her face and why the black haired woman next to her has smeared lipstick and messy hair. “So, you want to go?”

Will has the back of his shirt in his grip and shakes him a little, trying to get him to stop talking.

“Enough, man. She isn’t interested.”

Vera glares, and growls a little in annoyance under her breath. “Why on earth do you think I want to go out with you?” He looks shocked that she’s not immediately agreeing, but the deputy had made it very clear over the last year that she wasn’t interested in him. Will inclines his head towards Vera in a ‘ _See, what she said,_ ’ motion.

“Erm…Elliot said…”

“ELLIOT SAID?!” Vera raises her voice. “What the hell could that child of a man say that could convince you that this was in any way a good idea? For starters, I’m your bloody superior! Haven’t I told you, multiple times, that I’m not interested in your flirting, Fletch!” Joan reaches her hand back to place it on Vera’s hip to ground her and also to be able to stop her from launching herself at the man if it comes to that. Will notices the subtle movement and hides a grin. He also notices how Vera’s hand came up to cover it.

_So this is the new woman in her life,_ he thinks.

“But…you used to go along with it…”

“Used to! Past tense! So you decide to hunt down my address, from my mother who I don’t even speak to anymore to ask if I want to go out!” She’s shouting properly now, unable to believe that Fletch decided to turn up inebriated and on the advice of a twenty year old who had only been working with him for less than two weeks.

“You should really talk to your mum, Vera…”

“AND YOU’RE DRUNK ON MY DOORSTEP.”

Vera breathes sharply through her nose, her glare now furious. She held up one finger to stop whatever idiocy was about to spill from Fletcher’s mouth as the man looked between the two of them, connecting the lipstick stains on Vera’s neck with Joan’s smeared lipstick. His eyes widened as, at last he realises what he’s interrupted.

“I was having a very lovely evening with my girlfriend, Fletch. I will see you tomorrow morning for a meeting with me and the Governor about whether or not you’ll have a job tomorrow afternoon, and I don’t give a shit how bad you’re hangover is going to be. If you don’t turn up at that meeting, I will assume that you don’t want your job anymore. Then I’ll be dragging in Mr Mathews to discuss whether there’s any point continuing with his probationary period.”

Fletcher’s face went white. He looked to Will for support, but found none, the man shrugging and shaking his head at him.

“I warned you. We all did. Me, Linda, we all told you to knock it off. Even when she wasn’t actively telling you to stop, she seemed uncomfortable. Enough, man!” He gives one final shake to emphasize his point and then lets go of the man. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Vera’s girlfriend twitch to the side, angling her body towards Vera, ready to defend the woman if Fletch decided to throw all logic to the wind. Will’s estimation of the woman immediately grows.

Thankfully, Fletcher doesn’t move.

“Er, I’m sorry, Vera.”

“I don’t care. Go home.” Her tone is harsh, and causes the man’s already slumped shoulders to slump further. They all watch as Fletcher shuffles past Will and down the corridor towards the elevator.

Will turns to the two women in the doorway. “Nice to finally meet Vera’s other half, I’m Will.” He held out his hand for her to shake.

“Joan.” She takes the hand and shakes it firmly, and then lets go. “Thank you for coming to get him. He was getting close to having his head put through the wall.”

Will nodded, looking over his shoulder. “I’m sorry its taken this much to get him to realise. Sorry Vera.” He looks apologetically at his friend.

The curly haired woman shrugged. “You’ve repeatedly told him, Will. Not much more you can do. Now I’ve got to get hold of Erica. Joys.”

The man laughed once, and then turned to walk down the hallway. “Have a good night both of you.”

Both women wave and then turn into the apartment together, murmuring to each other softly as Joan closes the door.

Will smiles at how happy Vera seemed to be with her girlfriend. Vera had toughened up and become firm, over the last eight months but she appeared the happiest she’d ever been. The smile slipped off his face as he caught up with Fletch, who was stepping into the elevator. The man had turned up to try and corner Vera and Will planned to show his friend exactly what he thought of that behaviour.

Fletch exited the elevator with a bloody lip, with Will following behind him rubbing his knuckles and the two left through the main entrance to the building.

Once Vera had ended her phone call with Erica Davidson, whose main concern appeared to be that she’d called her at all and hadn’t waited until the morning, the deputy sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

She walked through to the bedroom where Joan had already made herself comfortable, dressed in the pyjamas she kept at Vera’s apartment. The black silky shorts and camisole suited her, and Vera knew from experience that the material felt luxurious when she ran her hands over it. Joan is sat at the top of the bed, pillows placed behind her.

Although the smart shirt and the cigarette trousers that Vera loved to see on Joan had been neatly folded in the chair in the corner of the room, Vera noticed immediately that the woman hadn’t washed the smeared lipstick off her face nor had she bothered to try and fix her hair, making her stop in the doorway, her heart thundering and desire shooting through her.

“Well, are you going to stand there all night or are we going to continue where we left off earlier?” The question is answered when Vera yanks her own shirt over the top of her head, showing the ridiculously expensive bra she’d bought for the occasion, and launches herself at her girlfriend, boisterous laughter filling the room and the tension brought by Fletcher’s unexpected arrival is quickly forgotten.

It is quickly replaced with low moans, created by the actions of very determined and wandering hands. Vera’s bra is very quickly discarded, as is her leggings. Joan’s pyjamas soon join the other clothes on the floor, flung haphazardly from the bed.

Vera, feeling dominant, rolls over to hover above Joan, who’s hair is still messy, spread out on the bed. She doesn’t stay that way for long, with Joan gently but firmly rolling them over to press Vera into the mattress and pushes her thigh between Vera’s legs. She pulls Joan down, pressing a heated kiss to her lips, until she pulls away to kiss behind Vera’s earlobe, a place she’s learnt that will cause her to shiver in anticipation.

Joan learns that night that licking and kissing her way between Vera’s breasts makes the woman’s left leg kick. Amused, she files that little tidbit away for a later time.

By the time Joan’s fingers are finding their way between her folds and circling her clit with her thumb, whilst she continues to kiss and suck at her neck, Vera is already moaning Joan’s name. She uses long, slow strokes, from her clit down to her entrance and back, using whisper light touches and finding her mouth occupied with licking and sucking on Vera’s stiffened nipples. A hand tangles in black hair, as her other grasps at the sheets of the bed.

“Jo-Joan…”

“Hm?” Her mouth is occupied, and the answering hum against her right nipple causes Vera to shudder as pressure builds in her lower abdomen from Joan’s talented fingers.

Gently, Joan presses one finger inside her, crooking it in a way that hits the perfect spot, whilst continuing to circle her clit. Gently caressing the breast and nipple with her free hand and with amused eyes, Joan watches as Vera’s head falls back and she murmurs to any deity that will listen.

“More…please. Please!” She whispers, and Joan is more than happy to oblige, pushing a second digit inside, and stroking her g-spot in a way that leaves Vera’s legs shaking.

“Don’t stop!” She breathes, the hand in Joan’s hair tightening, as her thumb picks up pace and she continues to crook her fingers and stroke that spot inside of Vera that has her crying out her name for all the neighbours to hear.

“ _Holy shit! Joan! FUCK!"_ Vera ragged moan reverberates around the room, one hand flying to clutch at her back, the other still gripping her hair as the pressure builds further.

Vera’s back arches off the bed, pushing her breast further into Joan’s mouth as she strokes Vera through her orgasm, feeling her walls clench around her fingers and the grip on her hair tightening further.

Breathing heavily, Vera comes down from her high, relaxing against the bed, a sheen of sweat on her body as Joan gently removes her fingers.

“Oh God.” She says, turning her head to look down at Joan, who’s resting her chin on her sternum, looking very much like the cat that got the cream.

“Hm, not quite.” She says, winking. This causes Vera to grab her shoulders and gently manoeuvre Joan up her body so she can clutch her cheeks and kiss the grinning lips.

“You are incredible.” Vera whispers, smiling and wraps her arms around Joan’s neck and clasps her against her body. Joan’s hand slides along the small of her back, and the other wraps itself around her ribs and she returns the embrace.

The pair are quick to get underneath the covers of the bed, snuggling together. Vera throws her leg around Joan’s hip and she pulls her closer with her arm around her waist. They don’t bother to wear pyjamas, preferring to remain as they are.

In the morning they notice dark red lipstick marks all over Vera’s body, causing Joan to grin lasciviously at her when she pulls the older woman up to join her in the shower.

Vera turns up for the meeting at work with a hickey on her neck, and doesn’t bother to cover it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. 
> 
> I would like to warn that pretty much from this point on, its going to deviate from canon. I'll be keeping some main plot points in, but I'm going to play around a little. 
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos are appreciated <3


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little morning nookie? Why not. 
> 
> Vera finally puts Erica in her place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's another update within a week!   
> Too many ideas rattling around in my head for this story, so I'm trying to make space by writing them out!
> 
> There is smut in this one too, as well as some swearing and alarm-clock murder.

Her shift the next day is tough.

Vera notices how Fletch’s gaze immediately zeros in on the hickey on her neck when he passes by her in the breakroom. The mark is left just above the line of her collar by Joan, and she’s almost certain that it was done on purpose. Vera doesn’t particularly mind, after all, she left her own little reminder of their evening last night tucked behind Joan’s ear. She didn’t think the black haired woman had noticed it, because she imagines that she would have made a little bit of fuss if she had.

But then again, Joan had been a little preoccupied this morning.

~ _Earlier that morning, 6am.~_

_Vera had woken before Joan, with her arms around the older woman and her back pressed against Vera’s front. She lays there for a while, enjoying the feeling of having the older woman in her arms and thinking about the pleasure the older woman had brought her the previous evening. The alarm hadn’t gone off yet, which meant they had time…_

_She decides to have a little fun._

_Gently, she moves her arm so she can place her hand on Joan’s breast, rubbing her thumb over the stiffening nipple as she places kiss after kiss down her neck, starting behind her ear. The sleepy hum of approval makes her grin as she continues to pepper kisses down her neck. Joan’s hand rises to cover the hand on her breast, but Vera doesn’t pause her ministrations._

_“Don’t start something you won’t finish,” Her low and husky voice says as she wiggles back into Vera’s embrace. “We don’t have time.”_

_“Wanna bet?” the teasing lilt from Vera is whispered into her ear and she can see Joan’s cheek rise from her place behind her and knows that she’s grinning._

_Vera offers one final rub over Joan’s nipple and then removes the hand, hearing the irritated huff come from her partner._

_“Patience, sweetheart. I’m in charge this morning.” She hears the short intake of breath at the endearment and Vera takes it as her chance. She moves backwards and rolls Joan over so that she’s on her back and Vera is hovering above her, placing all her weight on the hands that are place on either side of Joan’s shoulders. She straddles Joan’s hips, keeping the woman from using the trick she uses in the Studio when she needs to flip them over. Joan doesn’t try to move, happy to allow Vera to take the reigns this morning. It was only fair, Joan had taken control last night._

_A sleepy smile spreads across Joan’s face. “What a view to wake up to, darling.”_

_Vera blushes, and Joan’s eyes flick downwards as she notices that the blush extends down Vera’s chest._

_Leaning down, she places slow, gentle kisses down Joan’s sternum, shifting her body backwards down Joan’s hips and thigh, trying not to think about how well the pressure from sitting on her thighs feels. Joan can feel the warmth from Vera’s centre on her leg and grips the bedsheets by her head to stop herself from grabbing hold of her. Vera was in charge this morning, after all._

_“You can never wear pyjamas to bed again.” She says between each kiss, making Joan laugh._

_“Is that so?”_

_“Mhm.”_

_Vera nods, continuing her path down Joan’s body, pausing at her navel to look up at her and smirks._

_Joan finds that she really likes it when Vera looks at her like that._

_Curly hair disappears underneath the covers, and warm hands are there, gently parting Joan’s legs with a light grip._

_She isn’t expecting the gentle blow of hot air from Vera’s mouth, making her jump in surprise._

_“Easy…” comes her muffled voice beneath the duvet. A languid lick from her entrance to her clit makes Joan sigh happily, enjoying the sensation. Vera continues with this circuit, and then deviates, circling her clit with the tip of her tongue. A hand emerges from underneath the duvet to grasp at Joan’s left breast, thumb moving backwards and forwards over the nipple, mimicking the movement from earlier._

_Joan’s breathing becomes heavier, and Vera can hear her quiet murmurs become louder._

_Grinning, she begins to apply more pressure to her tongue when circling Joan’s clit, teasing her and moving away from the bundle of nerves when she can hear Joan’s soft moaning._

_“Don’t be a tease!” She says, her voice breaking off to a moan when Vera begins to stroke her entrance with her fingers whilst licking and sucking on her clit._

_She lets out a heady moan when Vera’s finger enters her, whilst she continues to suck and flick her clit with her tongue. Joan’s arms raise above her head, and she grasps at one of the pillows behind her head with both hands as she feels the pressure building low in her abdomen._

_“Vera…Vera, more!”_

_The blaring noise of Vera’s alarm startles the both of them, and Joan swipes her hand in the direction she thinks the clock is situated on the nightstand. Vera continues her ministrations, but Joan hears the thud and resulting silence, signalling that she probably owed Vera a new clock._

_But that thought could wait. What Vera was currently occupied with was much more important._

_“Please, Vera. More!”_

_Vera takes her cue, grinning and slips another digit into Joan, and begins to gently thrust, brushing against the spot inside of Joan with both fingers that has her calling Vera’s name, loudly and repeatedly. She sucks at her clit, then using the tip of her tongue to flick in a rapid pace, feeling Joan’s legs start to tremble. Her hand on Joan’s left breast begins to rub the stiffened nipple with more pressure, and she feels Joan’s hand cover hers._

_She grins as matches her finger thrusts with her licking of Joan’s clit, feeling her wetness on her chin and hearing the calls of her name._

_“Don’t you dare stop!”_

_She picks up her pace, feeling Joan’s walls start to clench around her fingers. After a few more thrusts, and Vera’s tongue flicking her clit, Joan falls apart._

_“Jesus fucking Christ Vera!” The pillow goes flying from the bed as Joan’s head falls back and her back arches as Vera carries her through the pleasure, continually stroking Joan’s g-spot softly and enjoying the sound of the woman calling her name for all to hear._

_Vera feels that Joan’s foot laying next to her hip points her toes as she comes. Good to know._

_Gently, Vera offers one final suck to her clit, and pulls away, gently removing her fingers. She turns her head to place a gentle kiss to the inside of her left thigh, and makes her way back up Joan’s body, emerging from underneath the covers._

_Joan’s grinning face is the first thing she sees, one arm still thrown above her head._

_Pressing a kiss to the smiling lips, Vera gives one final but gentle squeeze to the breast that her hand is still cupping, making Joan’s arms wind their way around her waist has she holds her in place._

_“I think you made a very good point about not wearing pyjamas to bed anymore, darling.”_

_“Mhm, I think I did too!”_

_Laughing, the pair had sauntered into the bathroom, Vera asking what the hell her clock was doing on the floor and Joan sheepishly admitting that she’d buy her a new one._

Vera is dragged back into the present by the sound of a slamming door. She finds her radio from the cupboard in the breakroom, where every staff member leaves them to be charged at the end of every shift and slams the door shut, attaching it to her belt.

Sighing, she makes her way up to Erica’s office, arriving in front of the door at 8:30am, in order to explain what on earth had happened last night.

Although the woman is hunched over a cup of coffee, and offers one to Vera, she’s sympathetic to Vera’s issue concerning Fletcher, but when she mentions Elliot, Erica gets twitchy.

“Its not necessarily that I want him gone, but he needs to understand that what he did is in no way acceptable, Erica. I was with my girlfriend, for God’s sake.” She crosses her legs and watches the look of surprise flicker across her face. “I want Elliot dealt with as well. He suggested it in the first place.”

“Well, Elliot is new and-“

Vera cuts her off. “I don’t care. The way he speaks to the women here is dangerous at worst, and he doesn’t stick to policy. If any complaints get raised about him or the way he acts on the job, it will reflect badly on you. Not me. You.”

Erica places the cup down on the desk. “Look, Vera.” She says in that patronising tone of hers that always makes Vera grind her teeth in frustration.

This time, Vera doesn’t let her say much in that tone.

“No. You listen to me. You’ve walked into this job, without any prior prison officer experience. But we thought, we’ll give you a chance, you might be just what we needed.” She watches as Erica’s mouth drops open in shock at such blunt words coming from her deputy. “In the months you’ve been here, you’ve thoroughly pissed off every single officer in this building, and now you’ve turned away a perfect candidate for the part time position for a pretty looking man with stubble and _no experience.”_

“Well, I –“

“Are you even aware that if he has to restrain anyone on the ground and he places his hand in the wrong place, like the back of a woman’s neck and applies pressure, he could kill them? Or he could panic in a situation and lash out at an inmate? _He didn’t listen to a single word in training, Erica._ The alarms went off yesterday and he just stood there, not knowing what to do, and wouldn’t listen to Will when he tried to tell him.”

Erica stops trying to cut across.

“I’m not saying this to upset you. I think you’ve got some great ideas for this place. If Elliot had turned up for his first day on time, and showed that he was willing to learn, that would have been something. Linda has already told me that she will not work a single shift with him, because she can’t trust that he has her back if something happens. I have to respect that, and I will make sure that she never works a shift with him because she doesn’t feel safe working around him. I will watch out for my staff, regardless of what you think.”

Erica blinks at her, sitting back in her chair.

“If any situation because of him goes to shit, it will be found out very quickly that you turned away a perfect, experienced candidate for him. And guess what happens then? A media shitstorm that drags your name through the mud.”

“Well, can’t we call her, offer her the job instead?” Erica gestures with her hands, that are now shaking. The implication that should anything happen in Wentworth, and it was her head on the chopping block seemed to light a fire under her backside.

“Good luck. I know for a fact that the afternoon you told her that she hadn’t got the job, the Governor of Bahnhurst offered to interview her. She got the job and started a week and a half ago. I’m told she’s settled in nicely, and the prisoners and the officers get on well with her.”

Erica’s face falls, the last hope she had of dealing with this quietly is dashed to pieces in front of her.

“How do you know?” She asks Vera, confused how the deputy would even know so much about Bahnhurst.

“I go to the same gym at Governor Ferguson. We usually end up there at the same time. We’re quite good friends.”

Erica remembers the stern and rather fearsome Governor of Bahnhurst. Joan Ferguson would hoard Sophie Harris like a dragon would hoard its treasure. Whilst the woman was terrifying, she appreciated her staff if they did their jobs well, and it sounded like Sophie had fit right in. There would be no hope of luring her to Wentworth, even if Vera was gym-buddies with the Governor.

_Friends,_ Vera thinks. _Oh Erica, if you only knew how much more than friends we are._

“I say this with respect Erica. Handle your shit. You’re the Governor, so bloody well act like it.”

Vera rises from the chair, pressing the button to silence the chatter from the radio requesting her presence in the strip search room.

“You aren’t staying for the meeting?” Erica asks, a tremor in her voice.

“No. You know what I want out of this meeting. Put Fletch on a sabbatical so he can get his act together. Elliot is a liability. Figure it out.”

With that said, she spins on her heel and stalks out of the office, making her way down to the search room where Linda has asked for her help to get Skye Pierson to hand over whatever drugs it was that she was hiding.

She uses the time to calm herself. She probably shouldn’t have unleashed some of her temper, but they wouldn’t be in this situation if Erica had listened to someone else’s advice for once.

By the end of her shift, she’s had to separate Bea Smith’s daughter and her father, Henry or Harry or something similar, during a visit with Bea. She didn’t like how the young girl immediately stepped behind her when her father stood angrily to his feet, and tried to reach around her to grab the girl.

Whilst she’d indicated for an officer to take the father through to a separate room, she offered Debbie a reassuring shoulder squeeze and a pat on the hand, and the girl had gratefully grasped onto her fingers, with Bea on the other side of her, arm around her shoulders. 

Vera had reached into the pocket inside her jacket and offered her a card with her name, position and work mobile number on it.

“If you don’t feel safe, Debbie, you call me. Doesn’t matter where or when, alright?” Debbie had nodded, eyes wet with tears and taken the card gratefully, immediately putting it in her pocket.

When the pair had left an hour or so later, Bea Smith had caught up to her, thanking her profusely for stepping in and offering her daughter her card. Time would tell if Vera got a phone call, but she hoped beyond hope that she didn’t, but her gut feeling hadn’t failed her yet. If it wasn’t Bea’s husband, then it might be something to do with Brayden Holt, who she’d noticed making conversation with the girl earlier in the waiting room. Debbie appeared to know him, but she reminded Vera of herself a few years ago, where she’d be uncomfortable in a conversation but wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings by bowing out without reason.

By the time Erica had called her back to her office a few minutes before the end of her shift, Vera was exhausted.

She found out that Fletch would be given three months paid leave to sort himself out, possibly go to a rehab of some kind for his alcohol related issues. Elliot had been told that he had two weeks to get his act together or he’d find himself unemployed.

Vera had smiled at the woman behind the desk. “Well done. Right, I’m off.”

She walked out of the office without a backwards glance, not seeing Erica’s head fall into her hands as she took a deep breath.

Vera didn’t particularly care either, she had a woman to get home to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments Keep me Going, Lovely People!
> 
> Thank you all for your support so far, you guys keep the productivity going.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some drama in this one guys! 
> 
> Bit of sparring, some serious discussions and our ladies not putting up with any of Brayden Holt's bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly 6000 words for this chapter, lovely people! WOW!

Vera doesn’t bother even going to her own apartment after work, she makes a beeline for Joan’s instead, despite knowing that the woman would be in work until at least 7pm. Letting herself in, she closes the door and leans back against it, sighing.

Dumping her shoes on the shoe rack and shrugging out of her work jacket, she wanders down the hallway and into the kitchen. Untying the black tie around her neck, she lets is hang, dangling down both sides of her neck and yanks open the blouse buttons to below her sternum.

After flicking the kettle on and making herself a cup of tea, she meanders over to the sofa and turns it on, finding herself scrolling through Netflix until she finds Orange is the New Black. Joan had convinced her to watch one episode, and Vera had found herself hooked and quickly pressing ‘Next Episode,’ which had made Joan hide a laugh behind her hand as Vera had cuddled further into her side as they’d lay on the sofa.

Leaning back and cupping her mug in her hands, she takes a deep breath in, inhaling the scent that embodies the very essence of Joan. It’s a mix of very expensive perfume and roses, she thinks. It’s a scent that screams confidence and has a sultry edge about it. Vera can’t walk into a department store now without thinking of Joan. And yet, the woman kept her guessing and wouldn’t tell her what the name of it was, or by what designer.

Surrounded by the familiar smell of Joan, she relaxes into the sofa, letting the worry and stress of the day roll away into the ether. It wouldn’t be too long before she arrived home and Vera intended to relax until she walked through the door. Then she might convince her to have a bath with her.

Depending on the type of day Joan had, they might make a trip to the Studio and burn off some energy, which led to some delightful style of foreplay as they yanked, pushed and pulled at each other when they sparred.

The end titles play for the episode on the tv that she’s only half watching, and Vera’s mind wanders to Debbie Smith and the way she reacted to her father in her visit to her mother earlier. The girl could only be about fourteen, and had immediately flinched behind her as soon as her father had raised his voice, grasping a petite hand into the back of her work jacket, for reassurance or in desperation, Vera didn’t know. Bea couldn’t jump into the fray to protect her daughter, a previous visit had gone awry and proven that fact, so Debbie had gone to the next best thing – Deputy Governor of Wentworth who was known for taking no shit from any man. It was Vera who’d restrained Harry the last time he became aggressive during a visit, and she’d done it without breaking a sweat, the move she’d used had appeared to be a smooth and practiced routine.

Vera dearly hoped that she wouldn’t get a call from the teenager, but her gut instinct had told her to give the girl an out to use if she needed it and what she had told her had been completely true. Vera would offer her help no matter the time she called. Debbie reminded her of her younger self, and if someone had offered help with her mother she might have been hesitant to begin with, but she would have grabbed it with both hands.

Vera is so deep in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice the front door opening, and the sound of Joan leaving her shoes on the rack by the door and then walking through to the living room. She blinks when she hears the older woman’s handbag being dropped on the kitchen island, and then tips her head up, as Joan comes over to the back of the sofa, leaning over on her hands to place a gentle kiss on Vera’s lips.

“Evening, darling.” The eloquent words cause Vera’s lips to quirk up into a grin.

“How was your day?” She asks, Joan shrugging in response, her day had been routine for most part.

“The usual. How was yours? Did Fletcher put up much of a fight?”

Vera sighed. “No, thankfully. He’s been given a sabbatical to get his issues dealt with, and then Elliot’s been told that if he hasn’t improved within two weeks then he’s gone.” Her tone is light, and she smiles when Joan places a quick kiss on her forehead. “Can I have your opinion on something?”

Joan notices her serious face, and quickly walks around the sofa, dropping into the corner next to Vera, her eyes glancing down, noticing how the blouse is open and displaying Vera’s white lace bra under her work shirt. She drapes one arm across the back of the sofa, and Vera leans her head back to rest it on her forearm.

“Always. What’s bothering you?”

“There’s an inmate, and her daughter comes to visit her with her father.” Vera sighs, an image of Debbie’s frightened face flying through her mind. “I think the dad has anger issues at the very least, if not more. He got aggressive with the both of them during the visit and the daughter’s first reaction was to hide behind me.”

“That doesn’t bode well.”

“Mh, which was what my train of thought was. I gave her my card, with my work mobile on it, told her to call me if she wasn’t feeling safe. Told her that it didn’t matter when or where. Did I do the right thing?”

Vera turns her head to look at Joan, who has a contemplative expression on her face.

“I think you did what was needed, which was to give her a safety line if something becomes too much to cope with. Whether she calls you or not, you gave that option to her.” Joan shuffles in her seat, getting comfier, tucking her stocking clad feet underneath herself. It wasn’t the first heavy discussion she’d had with Vera and it likely wouldn’t be the last but she would make sure that she was sat comfortably first. “If someone had done the same for me, I might have ended up as a very different person. I know it’s crossed your mind if someone had given you a way out from your mother.” She reaches out her hand to hold Vera’s, thumb rubbing reassuringly across the back.

“She held onto the back of my jacket, Joan. She gripped it so tightly that there’s still creases in it. I hate to think what is happening at home for her if I’m the first person she hides behind.” Vera lifted her head, and Joan moves, sitting up and opening her arms, and the curly haired deputy moves into her embrace, and buries her face in her chest. Joan strokes her hand over her hair, and the two sit in comfortable silence for a while, the black haired woman offering silent reassurance.

“Do you want to go and blow off some steam at the Studio, tonight?” Joan offers, pausing in her ministrations on Vera’s hair. She lifts her head and looks at Joan.

“Will you wear the black yoga leggings with the high waist?” She grins cheekily, her question making Joan roll her eyes fondly but nodding all the same. Vera rises up to kiss Joan on the lips, and hops to her feet, pulling the other woman up by her hand.

After a quick change into some more comfortable clothing, including the requested black leggings, the pair are out of the door and making their way down to Joan’s car.

Vera brings her work mobile with her, just in case.

* * *

Joan and Vera have been at the Studio for about half an hour, their sparring varying from slow takedowns to brutal slams to the ground. As usual, the two speak during their practice, a habit formed between them from the very beginning.

“What do you know about the Holts?” Vera asks as Joan steps backwards and they face each other, both waiting to see who strikes first.

Joan does, whipping her leg out. “The Holts?” She moves forward, forcing Vera back to avoid Joan catching her ankle. Vera crouches, her hand moving quickly to grasp Joan’s ankle, yanking her forward and forcing the woman into a split with a soft grunt.

“I know that the matriarch is currently sat in a cell in Wentworth.” Joan says, grabbing Vera’s hand on her ankle with her right hand and her upper arm in her left. “Although her husband likes to eye up anything that moves, if you believe reports.” She pushes Vera to the ground, the woman landing with a dull thud. “They’re involved in drugs, that sort of thing.”

She quickly moves so that she’s hovering over Vera, her ponytail over her shoulder, the basalt locks swaying from the quick movement.

“Know anything about their son?” Vera asks, taking a moment to catch her breath, noticing Joan is looking at her with a curious look on her face.

“This is to do with that inmate’s daughter isn’t it?” Joan guesses, relaxing a little in her stance. Vera takes advantage and wraps her legs tightly around Joan’s waist, using her body weight to roll the older woman so that Vera is now hovering above her. Vera nods her head in response to Joan’s question.

WHAM!

Joan rises up quickly into a sitting position and then moves forward, pressing a firm arm across Vera’s collarbone to keep her in place as she explains, hovering over her once more.

“As far as mafia circles go, they’re fairly minor from what I know. The son is a wildcard, prone to impulsivity and he’s quite spoiled. From what I hear, he throws a tantrum when he doesn’t get what he wants, has a tendency to destroy things and lash out. Why do you want to know?” Joan’s gaze is questioning.

Vera taps her hand on the ground, signalling that she’s giving up on this spar, and in one fluid movement, Joan moves backwards and Vera sits up.

“Brayden Holt makes Debbie very uncomfortable if her body language is anything to go by.”

“Hm. Maybe watch her the next time she visits?” Joan suggests, not really sure what more Vera can do, legally speaking. Illegally speaking, Joan knew of plenty that they could do, and whilst that would involve calling in favours owed to her by some unsavoury people, all Vera needed to do was let her know that was what she wanted.

“I suppose that’s all I can do really.” Vera slumps, sighing.

“I’ll give you some options later when we get home if you’re that worried, darling.”

Vera has a good idea why such a discussion would need to wait until they were home. Vera had admitted back in the beginning of their friendship that being morally ambiguous came with the territory of being prison officers. She’d meant it, but she was curious as to what it was Joan could suggest.

“You ready to go and grab some dinner? I feel like takeout tonight.”

At the mention of food, Vera hops to her feet, grinning and reach down to grasp at Joan’s hand to bring her to her feet.

Quietly, the two wave to the on-duty receptionist (Kevin had a date, apparently this evening) and are then making their way to the car. Joan suggests Chinese food, which Vera enthusiastically agrees to. On their way to the small restaurant that Joan favours, Vera discusses her loss of temper with Erica earlier in the day.

“I think it was about time she realised that she’s running a prison, and her decisions had real consequences.” She said, hearing Joan’s hum of agreement as she changed gears in the car.

“Is she still tightly wound?”

“That hasn’t changed. She’ll walk around the prison during the day now, so that’s something at least.” Both women scoff at the reminder that Erica Davidson was uncomfortable traversing the prison that she was in charge of. “She keeps having one of the inmates in her office though. I didn’t notice how often she was doing it until Linda pointed it out.”

“You think she’s carrying on with this inmate?” She flicks the indicator to turn left at the junction, and pulls out into the road smoothly, waiting for Vera’s answer.

“I don’t want to say with certainty that is what’s happening. She’s engaged, after all. She liked to flaunt that fact around very often.” Vera scowls, thinking back to when the woman had first started, and had bragged to all and sundry about the job her fiancée had, and what a great person he was, as if had any effect on the women and officers inside Wentworth. Vera had advised that she stop after the first two weeks when she heard mutterings of jumping the Governor and taking the stupid ring off her finger by some of the women.

“Being engaged has never stopped some people before.” Joan points out, as the scenery changes to brighter lights, and brightly lit shop fronts, showing numerous restaurants and take-aways. Joan smoothly pulls into a space, and shuts off the engine.

“We’ll probably need to wait while its cooked, that alright with you?” She asks Vera, who smiles fondly at her and leans over to kiss her cheek.

“Waiting with you isn’t a hardship, Joan.”

* * *

They reach Joan’s preferred Chinese take-away a short way from the car. They’re walking maybe thirty seconds to get from the vehicle to the front door that is half glass. The owner had greeted the pair with a big grin as Joan had opened the door, calling how he’d get Joan’s usual ready. She’d smiled as she cut him off, asking to add Vera’s favourites to the usual order.

“Ah, I’ll make sure your girlfriend’s food is cooked to perfection!” He calls, throwing a big grin towards them as he disappeared through the door behind him and into the kitchen, Vera’s meal written on the slip of paper in his hand.

They sit in the chairs by the large window that looked out onto the main street. It’s a warm night, so the upper windows had been propped open to allow the breeze to come through, and it also let the sounds of Melbourne in with it. They speak of various topics to pass the time, such as whose apartment they’d sleep in tonight, and whether they’d continue to watch Killing Eve or a film instead.

Joan revels in the normalcy of it all. Here she was, sat in a Chinese take-away, with her _girlfriend_ , discussing who was the best character in Killing Eve. Whilst Vera argued that Villanelle was obviously the best, Joan countered her argument with Carolyn Martens being the quiet and subtle power behind a lot of the plotline. They softly laughed, and Vera hooked her ankle around Joan’s under the chairs. Joan would never have believed anyone who’d told her a year ago that this would be her life. She was more comfortable with herself than she’d ever been, and Vera accepted every part of her without hesitation.

She draped an arm around the back of Vera’s chair and she moved closer to tuck herself into Joan’s side. They watch people mill about in the street, the time is nearly 8:45pm but the street is still awash with people. She feels Vera stiffen as a young girl with long brunette hair walks past, hunched over with her arms crossed and wearing a checked dress that is commonplace in the schools of Melbourne and her hair in a messy ponytail. When the girl whips around in front of the window to shout down the street at someone, an uncomfortable look on her face, Vera is out of her seat and yanking open the door. Joan calls to the owner of the take-away that they’ll be outside, and she quickly follows her girlfriend. 

“Debbie!”

“Oh my god, _Aunty Vera!”_ Debbie launches herself forward and hugs the deputy, whose arms automatically curl around the teenager, who she can feel is shaking. Vera notices how the young girl has added the familial label in front of her name when she hugged her, but doesn’t say anything. 

“Help me, please!” Debbie whispers desperately into her ear and Vera nods, and Debbie can feel it and lets out a breath of relief. She glances up and sees the fair haired son of Jacs Holt sauntering up to them from partway down the street, and she can feel that Joan has followed her out of the take-away and is offering silent backup if she needs it.

“C’mon Debbie, let’s go!” he calls, a smarmy grin on his face that has Joan sneering in response. She steps forward, holding her shoulders back and her chin up and places a protective hand on Vera’s back.

“And who are you?” She asks, as the young man comes closer. She steps forward again, moving slightly in front of Vera and the teenager, seeing as Debbie has burrowed herself into Vera’s arms, and Joan can see the girl’s frame quivering as his footsteps come closer.

“I’m Brayden. Me and Debbie have plans tonight.” He smirks, his faux charm not working on either woman. Vera is gazing at him in anger and Debbie still hasn’t turned around to face him. At fourteen, she’s handed the reigns of the situation over to the adults, who she subconsciously knows she can trust to deal with it. Vera understands that Debbie has reached her limit of what she could cope with and knows that Joan has likely understood it from one look.

“Hm, at nearly 9pm on a school night?” Joan crosses her arms and glares at him. “I think not, young man.”

The boy blanches at them, not expecting the wall of defiance that is Joan Ferguson, who is looking at him in the same way she would look at an unwelcome fly in her living room. Vera has moved back now and is cupping Debbie’s face, checking for any injury and asking her quietly if he’s touched her in anyway. The girl shakes her head in the negative, whispering that the boy had been pressuring her for weeks since he first saw her at Wentworth when she went to visit her mother the first few times. Joan steps to the side and blocks the boy’s view of the two when she sees that he keeps looking over to them.

Vera continues to try and find the cause for Debbie’s desperation to get away from him as Joan questions the boy further.

“Well her dad has said its alright!” He says, pouting that he was being questioned so thoroughly by someone who didn’t actually seem to be anything to Debbie, as far he knew.

“I doubt that.”

“He has!”

“If I were to call him, right now, and tell him that Debbie was spending the evening with a…how old are you? 19?” She looks him up and down, and steps towards him threateningly. She’s bluffing, but Joan doubts that the smarmy boy in front of her will call her on it. “Do you honestly think that her father would agree?” Joan doesn’t know anything about Harry Smith, but if his daughter was wondering through Melbourne this late at night without him checking on her whereabouts, then she doesn’t want to know more about the man.

Brayden stutters. “You aren’t even her aunt! Neither of you! Her mum is in jail! And _she_ works at Wentworth!” He jerks his chin towards the two behind her, obviously referring to Vera.

“Think an aunty can’t be a prison officer, do you? How short-minded of you.”

His posturing is getting him nowhere, and Joan is an unmovable wall, blocking his view of Debbie and Vera. Debbie has told Vera everything, in a rushed, hushed whisper. How Brayden had been charming at first but had become more forceful about trying some drug or other, and how she’d kept refusing but the young man was becoming more aggressive in his persuasion. That her dad had been useless in dissuading him, and then ignored any of her complaints about the boy. How her dad hadn’t even come home after dropping her off after her visit with her mother and was likely trying to drink himself blind. Her eyes flick to the side, only seeing Joan’s back and hearing her voice blocking Brayden at every turn. Vera embraces her in a hug, reassuring her that the two women will take it from here.

“Right.” Vera states, loudly. “Our _niece_ is coming with us.” She wants Debbie away from the young man as soon as possible.

Joan nods, not taking her eyes off Brayden. Looks like she’d gained a niece for the evening. “There. Time to go home, little boy.”

He tries to refuse, saying that Joan can’t force him away.

“Shall I prove that I can?” She moves forward quickly, getting into the young man’s face. “I have very little time for men who think they can force anything on an underage girl. Shall I call an officer over, and see what he thinks about a 19 year old chasing an unwilling 14 year old down the street? Or maybe I drag you by the scruff of your neck to the nearest police station and plant you in front of an officer there?”

Brayden stares up at her, sneering up at her with a cocky air about him. “Do you even know who I am? As soon as my dad hears that I’m in a police station, I’ll be out!”

“Your daddy might get you out, but not quickly enough to avoid a beating from the other people in the cells when they hear that you’re in there for a crime against a minor.” Joan curls her lip back at him. “Believe me, your father isn’t the only one with connections in this city. I will make sure that every suspect in those police cells will know to kick the absolute piss out of you Brayden.”

The fair haired young man looks up at her, face contorting in horror at her words, before he schools his face into faux calm. “Now madam, no need for threats. I’ll be on my way. See you soon Debbie.”

He steps back, and thrusts his hand into his jeans pockets.

“ _NO, YOU FUCKING WONT!”_ Joan body tenses at Debbie’s screech, the teenager has apparently reached her limit of the situation. She can hear Vera reassuring her that she won’t have to see him again, and that they’ll make sure he stays away. If Joan wasn’t convinced that the brunette wanted nothing to do with Brayden Holt, that shriek confirmed it.

“You heard her Brayden. Fuck off. Now.” Joan jerks her chin at him, indicating for him to go back the way he came, and after a long glance, trying to see behind the formidable woman, he snakes away, a relaxed gait to his walk. Only when he turns the corner does she turn back to the two, Debbie back in Vera’s embrace.

“Thank you.” Debbie’s ragged whisper reaches Joan’s ears and she smiles reassuringly at her, reaching out a hand to pat her shoulder. Debbie untangles herself from Vera and throws herself at Joan and although surprised at the action, she returns the hug and rubs her back.

“Hm, I think its time for some comfort food don’t you?” Vera says, motioning with her head back at the take-away. Joan nods and ushers the young brunette into the building, asking her what her favourite is and with a quick nod at the owner, he rushes back into the kitchen, barking orders for the food to be prepared first so it can be added to Joan’s original order.

Joan sits Debbie in a chair, and Vera sits in one on her right side and Joan takes the one on her left.

“Debbie, is it safe for you to go home?” Vera asks. “Be honest with us.”

Debbie looks at them, then shakes her head minutely. “I’ve not seen my dad since earlier, and Brayden knows where I live. He’s probably gone back there to wait and see if I go home.” Her voice shakes, and she wipes her nose with her arm. Joan grimaces slightly at the action but continues to rub her back, the movement making Debbie focus on her.

“I’m sorry but I don’t know your name. Thank you for helping me.” She says in a hushed tone. From her hand on her back, Joan can feel that she’s still quivering.

“I’m Joan. I’m the Governor of Bahnhurst Prison.” She smiles at her, tilting her head to see Debbie’s face.

She looks at her, eyes wide. “Wow, really?” Joan nods. “Are you Miss Bennett’s girlfriend?”

Joan blinks, wondering how on earth the girl saw that detail through her panic. Vera grins and places her hand on top of Joan’s that is still on Debbie’s back.

“Yes she is.” Vera answers. The two share a smile and then return their attention to the teenager between them.

“Okay.” Vera heaves a sigh. “I have a plan.”

Two sets of dark, expressive eyes look at her.

“I don’t feel comfortable letting you go home to an empty house, especially if that boy is going to be hanging around waiting for you. Plus we don’t know when your dad is going to come back, or in what kind of state. So my plan is, we grab the food from here, and go to Joan’s apartment, she’s got a guest bedroom. I’m staying there tonight anyway, so we can get you settled for the night. Somewhere safe.”

Debbie perks up at what Vera is suggesting. She’d dreaded having to go home, and be left to deal with any issues that came from either Brayden or her dad.

“Then tomorrow, we go and see your mum.” Vera finishes. Debbie’s eyes fly to the woman’s face. “We let her know what’s happened and see what she’d be happier with. When we know what she is satisfied with, it will be a bit easier to make a long term plan.”

“If you aren’t comfortable with that Debbie,” Joan cuts in, not wanting the girl to feel like she has no choice. She’d guessed Vera’s plan before she’d spoken of it. Vera’s apartment had only one bedroom, but Joan’s had two. She wasn’t particularly upset at having her home offered to the teenager, not when she obviously needed it. “Then we can call Social Services and see if there’s a spot for you in a home for now.” She despises how Social Services operate as a general rule, but they would step in to help the teenager if she needed them to.

Debbie immediately shakes her head. “I’d rather come with you two, if you don’t mind.” Whilst her mother would usually be the one she’d run to for protection, she was currently holed up in a cell in Wentworth and was no use to her. The two women with their arms around her had helped with no hesitation or questions. Just as her mother would have done.

She’d watched Miss Bennett, each time she’d gone to visit, and noticed her calm but firm demeanour. How she handled herself. The way she’d easily slammed her dad face down on the table when he got too aggressive.

Vera Bennett was _safe._ Then the woman had given her the business card with her phone number and Debbie’s idea that the woman represented safety was cemented in her mind.

Joan Ferguson was an outlier that she hadn’t expected. But she’d seen the way that the black-haired woman had stepped in to defend her from Brayden, immediately moving into the fray with no hesitation and verbally cutting the boy to ribbons with her well placed observations. To find out that she was a Governor didn’t really surprise her. Debbie didn’t really know much about prison officer hierarchy, but she knew the titles showed the two women as in charge. She didn’t need to know much more than that.

And then the pair had found a plan to keep her out of harms way for the night.

So Joan Ferguson also represented safety to Debbie.

It would be tough for that label to be removed.

Joan rose after a final pat to her back, and moved forward to pay for the food. The white plastic bag had steam rising from the top, showing that the food was piping hot.

Vera guided Debbie to her feet, and moved them towards the door, keeping an arm around her.

“Really, Miss Bennett, thank you. To both of you.”

Vera smiles fondly at her. “Call me Vera, and you can call Joan by her first name too. We’ve got you sorted for tonight, we’ll get some food in you, and deal with everything else tomorrow.”

After calling her thanks to the owner, Joan is at Debbie’s other side, placing a hand on her back and between the two of them, they reach the car.

Joan glances furtively into the back seat, making sure that Brayden hasn’t called for someone to sneak into it, or do anything to the car. Satisfied, she opens the door for Debbie, who smiles gratefully and slips into the car.

Sharing a loaded look with Vera over the roof of the car that speaks volumes between the two women, they both get in.

* * *

They share friendly conversation with Debbie as they all sit around Joan’s kitchen island, eating their food. They learn quite a bit from her, particularly concerning her home environment.

Harry Smith had a drinking problem, as well as anger issues. It wasn’t strange to Debbie that her father would disappear for days at a time, on a bender. It was how Brayden had managed to get so close to her in so little time. None of the teenager’s friends really understood her situation but Brayden did because his own mother was in Wentworth. It wasn’t until he started pushing for her to partake in some weed, and then stronger stuff that she wanted to stop him being near her. Bea Smith had always pressed on her daughter to never touch drugs, and the lesson ran deep it seemed. Both Joan and Vera were grateful for that.

She’d stopped answering his calls or texts, so he’d begun appearing at places he knew she’d be, like the entrance to her school at 3:30pm. Or outside her house at 7pm. Tonight had been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

She’d helped Joan and Vera with the clear-up, insisting when they said that it was alright to leave them to it. So Joan had put on a 80’s hits playlist on the speaker, and the trio had wiggled their way around the kitchen, washing and keeping dishes to the tunes of Queen, Blondie and Duran Duran. It had been oddly comfortable.

Vera had found a pair of comfortable pyjamas from her own numerous pieces of clothing that she kept stashed around Joan’s apartment. Together they’d shown her the guest bedroom, her mouth falling open as she saw the large double bed, with numerous pillows and the tastefully decorated room in duck-egg blue and greys.

When Vera went to check on her before she and Joan were about to go to sleep, she found Debbie tightly curled up in the centre of the bed, clutching one of the larger pillows to her in her sleep, gripping it within an inch of her life as she slept, brunette hair splayed around her head and snuggled into the duvet. Satisfied, she closed the door, but left it slightly ajar and made her way back to the bedroom she shared with Joan.

The black haired woman was sat up, finishing the last few chapters of Great Expectations. Without looking, she pulled back the covers on Vera’s side for her, making her grin and settle into the bed, rolling close and placing her head on Joan’s shoulder.

“Tomorrow is going to be tough.” Vera sighed. Joan closed her book and placed it on the nightstand. It’s quiet for a moment.

“Vera, you might have saved her life tonight.” Joan says quietly. She’d racked her brain all night trying to remember everything she knew about the Holts, and it all came together as she’d been brushing her teeth. The realisation had made her choke on toothpaste. Vera startled at her statement, looking up at her. “All of Brayden Holt’s girlfriends so far have been found with a needle in their arm and an amount of heroin in their systems that should have left them unable to press the plunger the rest of the way after it first enters their systems.”

Vera looks at her, horrified. “You don’t think?”

“I hope its only speculation, but there was a woman in Bahnhurst, her daughter died of a drug overdose about three months into her sentence. This inmate insisted that her daughter wasn’t a drug addict and having seen her when she would come to visit, I believe her. Her boyfriend at the time was Brayden Holt.” 

Vera goes quiet. Then takes a deep breath in. “Jesus Christ.”

She wraps her arm around Joan and squeezes with all her might, and feels Joan press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“I’ve booked the day off to come with you tomorrow. I have a funny feeling that this boy might try to find Debbie there. And it gives Sophie a chance to put my deputy through his paces.”

“Thank you.” Vera whispers, nuzzling into Joan’s side with a relieved sigh. "You being there will really help."

Joan reaches over and switches off the light and the pair relax into the bed. Joan feels Vera move, and then feels the kiss she places to her forehead. Together, they cuddle closer under the duvet, and the stress of the evening has them falling to sleep quickly, clutching their hands together as they do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always please leave comments and kudos, they really do help keep writers going when the writers-block gets to be too much! 
> 
> <3


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan, Vera and Debbie go to Wentworth to discuss the next steps with Bea. 
> 
> Apparently Joan is the only person who knows how to braid hair.
> 
> And our lovely ladies skills from the Studio come to the fore as they deal with Harry Smith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly 10 pages of writing for you here guys! 
> 
> I know its a little slow right now with the plot, but it will pick up again, its building! 
> 
> Besides, you need a few SQUEEEEE moments here and there, right?

Vera wakes first, feeling the security of Joan’s arms wrapped around her and the covers carefully tucked around the both of them. Vera is tucked under the older woman’s chin, and her arm is around her middle, but her hand is planted firmly on her rear. Vera doesn’t mind, it isn’t out of the ordinary for the pair to wake up with either one of them clutching at a breast or a backside. Both women do not complain about it, enjoying the touch too much.

Vera knows that Joan had gotten up in the night to check on Debbie, she’d felt the bed move and then dip back down when she returned. She’d then tucked herself around Vera and fallen back to sleep. This small action showed Vera that if she was nervous about the fact that she’d offered Joan’s (and hers, if she was being completely honest. She spent more time here than in her own apartment) home as a safe space for the teenager, then she shouldn’t be. Joan had known that Vera had concerns about the girl after work yesterday so she wasn’t particularly surprised with the way the curly haired woman had reacted. What Vera didn’t know was that Joan had spent nearly fifteen minutes perched on the edge of Debbie’s bed, after finding the girl wide eyed and crying. She sat, stroking her hair and reassuring her that she was more than welcome, and they’d both do what they could to help her which had reassured the young girl somewhat. She’d tucked the teenager in and then returned to her own room with a soft ‘ _goodnight’_ and Debbie had been already asleep before she pulled the door closed.

Vera casts her mind back to the previous evening, and how twitchy their surprise houseguest had been until she’d settled, perhaps realising that she was truly welcome. She presses herself closer to Joan as she remembers the scared look on Debbie’s face that had caused her to jump into the fray to help the girl last night. Vera sighed.

“I can hear you thinking, darling. Its too early for your brain to be working in overdrive.” Joan’s voice is tinged with sleep, making it huskier than it’s normal smooth timbre. She doesn’t open her eyes, but squeezes her hand, making a small giggle emerge from the woman currently in her embrace as she feels the hand on her rear.

“I was thinking back to last night.”

This makes Joan’s eyes open, only slightly tired and bleary, and Vera lifts her head to see her dark eyes looking at her in concern.

“What’s eating at your conscience?” She asks, wondering what was causing Vera’s mind to whirl. She knew her partner well enough to know that she would never regret helping Debbie last night, she didn’t have that in her.

“Were we right in taking charge? Maybe she wanted to go back to her own home last night but felt like she couldn’t say so.” Vera frets, a furrow in the space between her eyebrows becoming prominent.

“I wont lie here and try to tell you that I’m an expert in teenagers darling, but she seems the type of girl to say if she were unhappy with something.” Joan thinks back to the teen’s behaviour last night. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was relieved that a responsible adult was there to take the reigns.”

Vera nods, her nose brushing against Joan’s collarbone. “I suppose a father that has anger issues and a drinking problem and a mother on remand doesn’t say much for a stable environment, I suppose.”

“She is only fourteen.”

“If it comes to it, do you think I should offer her to stay with me until either her mother is released or charged?” Vera asks, the idea had been circling through her head before falling asleep last night. She looks nervous, and hadn’t wanted to force Joan into this, so she’d take the burden on her own shoulders if it came to that. Vera should have known better.

“You offer?” Joan nudges her face up with a crooked finger to her chin. “We’re a team, darling. This isn’t something you will shoulder alone. _We’ll_ offer her a place to stay. And I don’t think it’s a terrible plan. It would keep her safe from the likes of the Holts and her father’s temper at the very least. Besides, she would need to stay here, unless you planned on finding space for a Murphy bed in your apartment.”

Not overwhelmed at the idea of living with Joan full time, simply due to the fact that she was there almost constantly anyway, Vera presses a kiss to Joan’s lips, smiling at her. “How did I get so lucky to have you?”

Joan grins crookedly back at her. “Kevin.”

Vera bursts into laughter, trying to muffle the volume by pressing her face into Joan’s collarbone, feeling the older woman shaking with mirth too.

“Kevin is Cupid. Makes sense.” She says, still laughing lowly.

Joan smiles and then looks down at Vera. “Come on, let’s see if there’s a way to wake teenagers without them being in a foul mood the rest of the day.”

Together, they rise and make the bed, passing cushions and aligning the throw blanket that rests at the bottom of the large bed.

They figure out that the way to wake Debbie in particular is with a cup of coffee on the bedside table and gentle pat on the shoulder.

Vera has to laugh when she turns from making fresh coffees for everyone and sees both Debbie and Joan slumped at the kitchen island, sat on the stools next to each other, both with wild hair and tired eyes. Joan is holding her chin in her hand, whilst Debbie is resting a hand on the side of her face, whilst leaning her upper body against the counter. Joan has lent a spare robe to Debbie, a extremely fluffy and long one, and the teenager has yet to take it off this morning after gleefully putting it on and snuggling into it.

Two pairs of eyes watch as Vera places two mugs in front of each of them – an Americano for Joan, and a decaf coffee for Debbie. Both of them cradle the drinks in their hands, inhaling the steam and the smell of coffee. Vera takes her own and sits on the stool next to her.

“So, we’re going to go and see your mum today.” Vera starts, watching as Debbie looks at her with wide eyes. “It is completely up to you, Debbie, what you want to do. You can go back to your own house if that’s what you want, with your dad. If you don’t want that, Joan and I are happy to have you here with your mother’s consent whilst she’s in Wentworth.” Vera doesn’t even get a chance to finish before Debbie is violently nodding her head in agreement with the second option. “If you want to stay here, we’ll need to get paperwork drawn up saying that your mum agrees with it and that we’re responsible for you. I don’t know what we’ll need from your dad for that.”

Debbie slumps back into the back of the stool, looking between Vera and Joan with teary eyes. Joan has let Vera take the lead in this, seeing that she needed it. Plus, its only 7:30am and she’s not finished her first mug of coffee. 

“Are you guys really okay with me staying here?” Debbie says, half using the fluffy robe to hide her nervousness. Years of putting up with her father’s moods and watching her mother tiptoe around him has proven to her time and time again to be wary of people’s moods and their actions. “I know that I just sort of jumped on you last night and then when I was visiting my mum yesterday. But I _really_ don’t want to go home to my house.”

Vera offers a reassuring smile, and it grows when she watches one of Joan’s hands reach out and rest on Debbie’s upper back, knowing that the woman’s thumb would be moving in a reassuring way on her back.

“We wouldn’t have offered if we weren’t sure.” Debbie turns her head to look at Joan, who’s got her mug raised to her face with one hand and she’s offering a small smile to her. “Is your dad struggling with his drinking?” She asks, watching the girl retreat into herself.

“I wouldn’t call it struggling, he enjoys alcohol too much for that.” She says petulantly, sipping her coffee and then looking quickly at Vera and Joan. “He says that he’s going out and then sometimes I wont see him for a few days. I think I preferred that at the time. But then Brayden was getting pushy and I just wanted someone, _anyone_ else in the house with me so if something happened I would have some help. But then when I told my dad he just said something about that being pushy was how boys showed they liked you and to not bother him with such a stupid thing again. He went out that night and I didn’t see him for nearly four days. After he dropped me off at the house yesterday, I haven’t seen him but I didn’t want to stay at the house on my own.” The tone in her voice grows desperate, and she feels Joan’s hand on her back, steadying her and reminding her that she was sat with the two women who’d proven they’d take her side last night.

Joan eyes Vera from the corner of her eye, seeing the shorter woman nod. Debbie would likely be able to convince her mother that she didn’t want to live in the house with her dad. Bea Smith already knew Vera, and had somewhat of a camaraderie with her after the deputy had helped her on her first night. It was possible that Bea might make the suggestion herself if Debbie explained it.

Joan drained the last of her mug. “Alright, time for breakfast.”

Vera, sensing the need to bring a smile to Debbie’s face, made to stand. “It’s alright, I’ll make us something.”

Joan immediately gets to her feet, and gently presses her hands to Vera’s shoulders and pushes her back into her seat. “Absolutely not! You’ve killed two toasters since we’ve known each other, not to mention the fact that you blew the door off your microwave because you left metal inside it and then turned it on.” She looks down with a raised eyebrow. Vera puts the expression of utmost innocence on her face in response.

Debbie hides her laugh in the sleeve of her robe.

“Honestly, you blow up a microwave ONCE and nobody ever forgets it.”

“The fire service turned up because the apartment above you thought something had exploded.” The deadpan expression on Joan’s face, as well as the blushing on Vera’s is enough to make Debbie break out in loud, snorting laughter, unable to hide it behind her hand anymore.

Happy that the tense atmosphere had dissipated, Joan squeezed Vera’s shoulders one more time, Vera’s hand coming up to cover one of her own. She turned and walked over to the fridge, pulling out ingredients for a cooked breakfast.

Eventually, they’re all fed and showered. Debbie has pilfered some of Vera’s clothing, as the teenager is nearly as tall as the deputy, so is wearing a pair of leggings and a blue sweater, the sleeves long enough to slip over her hands, which Debbie seems very pleased about. Joan had come from her bedroom running a hand through her now dry hair to hear Vera and Debbie both complaining that neither of them knew how to braid hair. She comes close enough to the sofa to reach over and gently pull the hairbrush from Vera’s hand. Moving around the sofa to stand in front of Debbie, she gestures with the brush for her to stand and turn.

Gently, she brushes and separates the long hair into three sections. Then, starting high on her crown after confirming that Debbie wanted a French braid, Joan begins to plait the hair. Vera sits back on the sofa and watches the exchange with a smile. For all her tough exterior and swagger, Joan Ferguson really is a sweetheart, she thinks. Nobody but her will know that, but that fact that she knows is enough. Vera notices that Debbie’s eyes have slid shut, her face relaxed.

“Nobody’s braided my hair since mum got taken away.” She whispers as Joan finishes the braid that now rests at the middle of her back, all the hair and volume tucked away in the pretty pattern of the plait. Debbie turns, running a light touch down the braid, and then throws herself at Joan, wrapping her arms around the woman who had very quickly dropped the brush onto the sofa when she saw Debbie rush at her.

Making sure to keep steady on her feet when Debbie collides with her, Joan wraps her arms around the girl who’s shaking slightly, rubbing her back and whispering reassurances into her ear. Then, Vera is on Debbie’s other side, and wraps her arms around the teenager and Joan. Together, they offer her what reassurances they can, that they wont simply abandon her to figure things out herself, and that they can handle her dad and Brayden if it came to it.

“Thank you.” Comes the whispered response from the teenager who’s mushed in the middle of the group hug, but doesn’t want it to end. Debbie’s last real hug had been an hour before her mother had been taken away by the police. She didn’t hug her father, he didn’t offer to and she never asked, not wanting to either. Hugs from her friends weren’t the same. This hug made her feel safe. It also made her miss her mother all the more.

“Right, shall we go?” Joan asks, leaning her head back to look at her. Debbie nods, and the three separate, Joan wandering over to her handbag sat on the sideboard, checking that all the important things were in it. Vera meanders over to the coat rack, choosing a light jacket and digging out her shoes. She finds a pair of simple black suede flats for Debbie who, by lucky coincidence, is the same shoe size as Vera. Smiling, she takes the flats gratefully, slipping her feet into them.

Eventually they’re on the road, and it doesn’t take long to reach Wentworth, Joan pulling the car into the carpark with practiced ease and parking in the spot reserved for Vera at the shorter woman's direction. Vera notices that Erica’s car isn’t in its spot. Interesting.

It all goes well at first, checking themselves in, and putting both women’s handbags through the x-ray machine. And then Elliot decides to take it upon himself to try and flirt with Debbie insinuating that maybe he should say that the drug dog indicated that she needed a strip search. He doesn’t see Vera stood slightly behind Joan, waiting for her own handbag to emerge from the machine. Vera hears the comment and sees Joan’s back stiffen as if she’s been branded. Abandoning her handbag with a sharp look to the officer operating it, who without a word, moves the handbag from the tray to the ground next to his feet, Vera walks up to the other side of Debbie, who has wilted and retreated to Joan in her nervousness. Joan, despite her temper at the man, has wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulders.

“Well, Mr Mathews I thought you were many things, but a paedophile wasn’t on the list. Should I add it?” Vera’s sudden appearance makes the man go white, and he realises that before him stand two imposing women, who both look like they can rip him limb from limb with their eyes shut. He’d been so focused on the teenager stood in between them that he hadn’t noticed his boss. Vera has fire in her eyes and fury in her words.

“Miss Bennett…erm, I…erm.”

“You were given two weeks to fix your performance and your attitude. If I were you, I would be going to the break room and sitting in there until Governor Davidson calls you to her office. If I find out you’ve so much as sneezed outside the door to that breakroom, I will fire you myself, regardless of the governors opinion. Do. You. Understand?” Vera spits venom at him, and without another word he turns and flees through a door reserved for officers, the door slamming shut behind him.

Vera turns with an apologetic look to the officer at the machine. “Sorry Nigel, can you call Will here please?”

The officer does as she asks, waving off her apologies with his hand and calling for Mr Jackson to come to the front with his radio.

When Will arrives, the trio have moved into the waiting room, and are sat in the chairs, both women making sure that the teenager is alright. Joan offers a quick nod in greeting and goes back to reassuring Debbie, who has a tight grip on the woman’s hand. Will notices, but isn’t too surprised as Vera had called him this morning to explain the situation and to ask that he get Bea to one of the private rooms for a visit. He’d arranged everything as she’d asked, and despite Bea Smith’s confusion, she was happy to be able to see her daughter again so soon. She had already been situated in one of the soundproof rooms that were usually reserved for lawyers, or private matters that needed to be discussed with an inmate and their family.

Vera stands in front of Will and explains in detail what had happened with Elliot. Out of the corner of her eye, Joan sees the man’s face morph into fury, his head whipping around to look at the door that the officer had dashed through to escape Vera’s venom filled words.

“I will deal with it.” Vera states in an even tone, bringing Will’s attention back to her. He stares for a moment, then nods his head.

Eventually, they're allowed to enter the visitor's room, which is only filled with two other people. Both women go with Debbie, who immediately launches herself at her mother, who is eyeing up Miss Bennett and the new woman who she’s never seen before.

They sit, with Debbie excitedly making introductions for Joan, saying how cool it is that she’s the boss of Bahnhurst and how both women had stuck up for her the night before. Vera watches as Bea’s face goes as red as her hair as Debbie explains, including how Brayden had been following her, that Harry had done nothing to help his daughter and how Debbie felt so scared that she felts she needed to go with two women, one of whom she only knew because her mother was in prison to be safe.

It was Joan who explained their offer to Bea, whose face had been an open book in displaying her shock.

“But why?” She asked. “Why would you offer that? What do you get out of it?”

“Don’t misunderstand me, we would have stepped in for any child that was in trouble at night in Melbourne, but Vera explained how Debbie was at your visit yesterday.” Joan’s tone is gentle, and she has to admit she’s never been so careful in her speech when talking to a prisoner.

“Well, she’s fourteen. I cant really stop her if she wanted to stay with you, could I?” Bea’s tone has some light sarcasm, but the eye contact she makes with the dark haired woman displays her gratitude. “If you’re serious, and Debbie wants to, I will sign whatever you need me to. It’s not like I can protect her from in here. But on the condition that she visits me twice a week.”

Vera and Joan are already nodding.

“We assumed that was a given, Bea.” Vera says. “And if anything major was to come up, you know I’m here most of the week.”

“That does reassure me, yeah. Harry wont need to sign will he?”

Debbie is frantically shaking her head ‘no,’ holding Bea’s hand tightly. “He wont sign anything if he has to. He won’t! You know what he’s like, mum!”

Joan reaches over and grasps her other hand, reassuring her in the same tone as she’d used out in the waiting room. “In this case, he doesn’t need to, because its him we’re trying to keep you from.”

“How soon will the paperwork be done?” Bea asks, looking between them. If she had to leave her daughter in the hands of anyone, she’d rather it be with a Deputy Governor and an actual Governor. Most parents would struggle to understand her logic, but Bea had lived with Harry for a long time and remembered exactly how his abuse started and how it worsened. She really should have taken Debbie and ran when he was only out late drinking every night. The only good thing to come from being on remand was being away from Harry and his fists. 

“We’ll get the ball rolling and with a rush, maybe by the end of the day?” Joan offers, looking over the table at Vera, who’s nodding.

“We’ll talk to Will and give you some time to yourselves. See you in a bit.” Vera stands, Joan following her lead, and together the two exit the room in tandem, both walking with authority and leaving the smell of Joan’s expensive perfume behind in the room.

“Wow, I never really thought of how much of a powerhouse Miss Bennett is.” Bea says, looking over to her daughter who nods. “I’ve never met the other woman before.”

Debbie rests her head on her mother’s shoulder. “They make me feel safe, mum.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit sudden for you to be feeling that way? I mean, you only know Miss Bennett because I’m in here.”

“Not like you can help me is it?” Debbie yanks her cheek away from Bea’s shoulder, staring at her with angry brown eyes, her voice sharp. “And then you never left Dad, no matter what he did to you. Sorry if two prison governors make me feel safer than I’ve felt for a long time, mum.”

There’s heat to her words, but she isn’t shouting like Bea expects her too. Debbie pulls her hand away. Her daughter’s words sting, because they’re true. She never left Harry, she just made sure that he never raised a hand to Debbie. She never thought that it would make Debbie feel unsafe in her own home. Never dreamed that Debbie would be able to understand by the age of seven what was going on.

“I don’t want to be in the same house as Dad anymore. If you change your mind, and wont sign the papers, I’ll go live with Joan and Vera anyway.” Debbie laid out her terms. “Brayden knows that dad drinks like crazy and is barely home. He can get to me there. How long is it until Dad gets brave enough to smack me one? Gets brave enough to slam my head into a wall like he did with you that night?” Debbie is pacing on the opposite side of the table, but Bea hasn’t moved. Her daughter looks so mature with her hair braided, and her back straight as she argues her point. A big change to the scared girl that would cower in her bedroom when Harry would come home late at night.

At Debbie’s last point, Bea swallows nervously. She remembers the night that Debbie is talking about. Harry had knocked her unconscious, and she’d woken to Debbie frantically shaking her, with a bruise on her shoulder and tears dripping down her cheeks. It was the first and only time Harry had grabbed Debbie in anger, and he’d only grabbed her to roughly shift her out of his way. Debbie had been twelve.

“They helped me, mum. They didn’t have to, but they did. Offered me somewhere safe to stay, until you get out. You’ve always refused any help that was offered to you. I’m not going to do that. I’m grabbing it with both hands and I’m not letting go.”

Debbie slumps into a chair on the other side of the table, having made her point and looks up at her mother, who seems to have frozen in her seat.

“You’re right.” Bea doesn’t look at her. “I never took any help and I should have done. If not for me, then for you.” She looks at her daughter, who suddenly seems so much older than her age. “If this is what you want, then I’ll sign the papers to give them temporary guardianship until I get out of here. But I’m serious about you coming to visit me twice a week. And phone calls.” Debbie holds her gaze, and nods. “You work hard at school and no more skipping lessons. I don’t think those two will let you get away with that. You listen to them, Debs.”

Debbie begins to nod faster. “I promise.”

Bea stands, and makes her way over to her daughter, who is as headstrong and stubborn as she is, and wraps her arms around her.

“I want you to promise me something, mum.”

Bea pulls back to look at her daughter.

“Stay out of trouble.” Debbie looks at her. “Don’t lose your temper with anyone, don’t start anything and don’t get pulled into other people’s drama.”

Bea smiles wryly at her. “I seem to remember telling you that when you started high school.”

“Bet you never thought it applied to prisons too, huh?”

There’s laughter then, and the mood lightens, and out of the corner of her eye, Debbie can see both Joan and Vera talking to the officer who’d looked so angry at what the creepy one had said earlier.

Debbie knows who he is. Mr Jackson, who used to be a social worker before he worked at Wentworth. Whatever they’re talking about, she assumes that its to do with the paperwork for her and returns her full attention back to her mother, more than aware of the fact that soon she’ll have to wait until next week to see her again.

* * *

“Nah, the paperwork is fairly simple, you just need a social worker sign off on it.” He looks between the two women. “I’m assuming you already have it in the works?”

Joan nods. “I pulled some strings, we’ve got a house inspection later this afternoon. She’ll be coming with the paperwork so she can sign off.”

Vera looks over to her, relieved at Joan’s forethought. Joan had mentioned it whilst they were making the bed this morning, and Vera had kissed her soundly for her advanced planning.

“I’ve seen Harry Smith on a visit here more than once. I’m glad Bea’s girl is going with you. Its probably the best place for her.”

Joan and Vera share a look. They are more than aware that Harry will not simply roll over and accept his daughter being removed from him. But then, the two women know that they can handle whatever petty mess the man throws at them.

Will opens his mouth to say something, but the shouts for assistance coming from the reception area brings all three of them out through the door, Joan catching Debbie’s eye and mouthing ‘STAY THERE!’ and making sure that Debbie nods in acceptance before she follows Vera through the doorway.

Bea keeps a grip on her daughter, as she watches all three rush out. She notices the care given to Debbie from the taller woman by telling her to stay put.

Harry Smith is on his knees when they enter the reception area, struggling against the officer who has his hands restrained behind his back. Immediately Will goes to help but Joan and Vera share a look and a small grin.

“Shall we practice that move again, darling?” Joan asks, in a lilting tone.

“Oh, of course we shall!” Vera answers, and together the two walk forward. Vera gently moving Will out of the way and Joan motioning for the other officer to move back, they each grab a wrist, as quickly as a snake snapping in anger. In one smooth movement they push Harry to the floor, face-down and cross his arms behind his back, swapping wrists and holding him there. He thrashes, shouting and cursing. Will holds down his legs to stop either woman being hit by a foot flying around and silently holds out a pair of handcuffs to Joan, who takes them with a nod, one hand still securely holding onto Harry’s wrist.

She snaps the metal around one arm, and Vera twists the wrist that she currently has in her hold, and Joan clicks the metal around that one too. The man resembles a trussed up chicken, and now, any manoeuvre he tries to get out of the handcuffs will only end up with him hurting himself.

He thrashes again, growling in his anger. Joan stands, offering her hand to Vera, who grasps at her fingers and raises herself to her feet. Together they look down at the man in contempt.

“Where is my daughter!?” He shouts. “I know she’d come here!”

“None of your business I’m afraid.” Joan states, with a glare and her hands on her hips. 

He begins to thrash again, but Vera, annoyed with him, places her foot next to his face. A silent warning that the man seems to understand. Joan never thought the sight of Vera intimidating a man using her high heeled boots would ever be a turn on, but apparently it was.

“Debbie wont be coming home with you at all. She’s asked for help to get away from you, and that is that.” Vera spits out at him. “If you truly cared about your daughter you would not be drinking until you lose consciousness every night. And you would have ensured that Brayden Holt stayed away from her. Your wife will sign the papers to have someone else be Debbie’s temporary guardian.”

“I’m her father, I have a say in that!”

“Not when YOU are the person she’s trying to get away from.” Joan’s tone is icy.

“Erm…Miss Bennett? I’ve called the police, they should be here in about ten minutes.” The nervous officer is stood at Harry’s feet, a bruise darkening on his cheek where the man had managed to land a hit with his elbow.

“Thank you Daniel, go and take a breather, you did well with this idiot.” The young man lights up at the praise and makes sure that he isn’t needed before going through the door into the staff breakroom.

Once Harry Smith has been led away in handcuffs by the police, Joan and Vera return back to the visiting room where Debbie and Bea have been chatting and wondering what on earth has been going on.

Will is apologetic when he has to let the pair know that their time is up. Debbie hugs her mother again as Joan and Vera explain what had happened in the reception area.

“Whatever papers you want to put in front of me to get Debbie out of that house, I’ll sign.” Bea states, looking determined. “She stays with you two in the meantime.”

“Of course, we expected nothing else.” Joan nods.

“We’ll probably have them by the end of the day, so we’ll either bring them tonight or tomorrow.” Vera added. “Thank you Bea, really.”

“Miss Bennett, I don’t know how I can thank you both enough. Not many people would offer what you have. Debbie, be good and behave!” Bea meets the black-haired woman’s eyes, and she raises an eyebrow in return. Bea simply offers her a grateful smile. She gives her daughter one last hug, and then walks through the door that Will is holding open for her, offering one last wave through the glass as she turns the corner to go further into the prison.

Debbie turns to the other two women in the room.

“She’s right. Not many people would help.”

Vera winds her arm around the teenager’s shoulders. “Probably, but I’m glad we got you out of it.” She reaches up a hand as if to ruffle her hair.

“Don’t! You mess with her hair and I’ll make sure that you use the extra volume stuff next time you shower!” Joan threatens playfully, making Debbie giggle as Vera ushers her out of the room, Joan picking up both handbags from a chair by the door on the way.

“If we’re lucky, we might be able to convince Joan to make pasta for dinner. She makes amazing pasta.” Vera whispers loudly, making Joan grin at her as she slips behind the wheel of her car and the other two passengers settle in their respective seats.

“I’m starting to think you’re only with me for the pasta, you know?” Joan teases, as the car pulls out of the carpark.

“Oh, you’ve also got Netflix.” Vera quips back, winking at Debbie as the young girl tries to hide her laughter behind her hands.

“Ah, I knew it!”

The two carry on bantering back and forth, and Debbie finds herself relaxing, and enjoying it. Back at home, the atmosphere was always tense, and both her mother and herself walked around her father on eggshells constantly. But watching Vera and Joan? It felt right. The two communicated about everything it seemed, and if they didn’t then they’d plan to talk about an issue later on. They picked up on each other’s little tics, how this morning when Vera was rooting around in the bathroom for her mascara and Joan had handed it to her from the drawer whilst brushing her teeth and neither woman needed to say anything. Debbie had crept from her bed after using the bathroom to check that she wasn’t actually dreaming last night, and had peeked through the gap in the door, and saw the pair wrapped around each other in bed, both women clutching at each other in their sleep. This was some time after Joan had checked on her, but even that was out of the ordinary for the teenager. It made a huge difference to Debbie, who’s own mother would prefer to sleep on the sofa or on the edge of her and her father’s bed. Debbie finds herself wishing a little that she’d grown up around Vera and Joan. She loves her mother, but she can’t wrap her head around why on Earth the woman would stay with a man who hurt her. She wouldn’t give up her mother for anything, but she’s relieved to not be near her own father.

“You okay, Debs?” Vera turns to ask her. “I’m trying to convince Joan to make homemade garlic bread, help me out, would you?”

Debbie watches as Joan eyes her in the rear-view mirror, eyes crinkling slightly as she smiles.

“Pasta without garlic bread is sacrilege.” Debbie shrugged slightly. “It’s the law.”

Vera practically crows in triumph. “There! You see!”

“Tell you what, Debbie, I’ll make the garlic bread but I’ll teach you how to do it. So the next time I'm on a late shift, you can make sure that she doesn’t burn the apartment building to the ground trying to make food. Deal?” Joan looks at her quickly in the rear-view mirror again.

“Deal!” Both women notice the twinge of excitement in the teen’s tone, and share a smile.

The rest of the drive home is filled with chatter, some music, and Vera’s insistence that she isn’t completely useless in the kitchen.

Debbie hopes to be able to see what chaos Vera can bring to a kitchen, because from what Joan describes, its hilarious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for your support, you lovely people!
> 
> Every kudos and comments make my heart jump with joy that people enjoy reading what I spill onto a page!
> 
> <3


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some hurt/comfort in this one, some fluff, and there's some absolutely filthy smut too. 
> 
> A bit of a filler chapter, but they're needed to get the brain going, and they're so much fun to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a trigger warning for the discussion of Abuse - emotional/mental mostly and it isn't explicit, just thought that i'd put a warning here just in case. 
> 
> Oh yeah, and there's also smut in this one.
> 
> ENJOY.

The house visit had gone smoothly, with no problems. According to the social worker, it was mostly a case of making sure that Debbie would have the space she needed, and that both Joan and Vera would take responsibility for her wellbeing. Within an hour, the paperwork had been signed, initialed and a copy sent by email attachment to both the social services department who would file it, and to Will, who would print it out and get Bea a copy. Surprisingly, the social worker had visited Wentworth first to get Bea’s signature. Joan thought that it was about time the department showed some initiative, but this was an opinion that she didn’t verbalise.

The trio stood at the door to the apartment, waving off the social worker as the woman stepped into the lift. 

“So…pasta?” Vera said hopefully, eyes gleaming in the low light of the hallway. “I can help!”

Joan eyed her, lips quirking up into a smile, as she raised an eyebrow. “Promise not to set fire to the stove?”

“I’ve never done that!”

“And you won’t do it to mine. I like my stove.” She wraps an arm around Debbie’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “I bet you that something will burn.”

Debbie looks up at her, curious. “What’s the bet worth?”

Joan looks at her, surprised. “Hm, how about this: if Vera doesn’t burn anything tonight, I’ll do the entire lot of washing up. If she does, it’s on you two. Fair?”

Debbie looks at Vera, in case she gets upset that the two of them are betting on her. She’s grinning at her, and showing no sign of being upset in anyway, so Debbie decides its safe to go ahead. She contemplates it, and then holds up her pinkie finger at Joan, who looks confused at the action.

“I agree to your terms. Pinkie promise to follow the bet?” Debbie explains, and Vera watches as the two lock fingers, shaking them twice.

Despite what Debbie had previously thought about wanting to see Vera in the kitchen, having seen the carnage the petite woman had done had her clasping her hands over her mouth, half in shock, and trying to stifle her laughter.

Within fifteen minutes, Vera had blunted Joan’s favourite knife, knocked an entire roll of paper towels into the half-filled sink, and nearly set the wooden spoon on fire. Nothing had burnt yet, though. It all went to hell when they added the tomatoes, and Joan bowed out to use the bathroom quickly. Debbie had run to grab Vera’s phone from the coffee table so they could set a timer after the dish went into the oven and by the time both Joan and Debbie returned to the kitchen, the acrid smell of burnt tomatoes had filled the air.

“Dishes are on you two tonight, then. Enjoy scrubbing the pan, darling.” Joan had stood, hands on her hips, next to the stove with a triumphant grin. Vera had blushed scarlet, but all three had nearly cried with laughter.

Debbie enjoyed the banter between the two women again. Burnt food back at her house meant shouting, screaming or the sound of a fist hitting skin. Here? It was friendly joking, no malice intended. Within twenty minutes, Joan had a dish filled with pasta and the homemade sauce in the oven to cook for an hour and Vera had been relegated to drinks only.

Joan had been patient as they’d prepared the pasta, allowing the teenager to cut, season and stir and Debbie found it relaxing. She’d explained each step, and why it was important to do it a certain way, and then allowed Debbie to do the physical work of cooking whilst she kept an eye.

When they’d started to pull the ingredients for garlic bread out from the cupboards, Debbie wondered if they’d be eating it a few hours after they’d finished their dinner. Bread took hours to bake, right? Joan had seen her confused face and grinned at her.

“Not with my way.” Joan reassured her. Like before, she explained each step as she did it, Debbie watching to begin with, and then grabbing the smaller glass bowl that Joan had grabbed from the cupboard for her, and Joan gently nudged the plastic container of flour towards her. Adding the ingredients, and once a dough formed, kneading it as Joan had shown her, the teenager got stuck in.

Debbie’s first attempt didn’t go too well. When they placed it in the cast iron skillet, the kind that the teenager had only seen in American tv programs, one side had under-cooked and the other side had burnt. Reassuring her, Joan had shown her how to check the progress on the bread, and the second attempt turned out much better.

Unknown to the two busily making dinner, Vera was quietly snapping photos with her phone, thinking that maybe Debbie would want the memory of making garlic bread for the first time. She managed to catch the instant that the teenager picked up a pinch of flour and gently blew it into Joan’s face with a laugh.

Which had led to a small flour fight, that Vera documented in its entirety, howling with laughter the entire time. That is, until the pair turned to her with fists full of flour. Within ten minutes, all three were covered, spitting flour and laughing.

With the food cooking in the oven, garlic bread included, they got to work clearing the flour from the kitchen. Debbie chose the music, and ABBA was playing lowly from the speaker. Within twenty minutes, the kitchen looked as it had before the flour fight and most of the dishes had been done and put away. All that would be left to clean would be the pasta dish, the skillet and the plates they would use to eat.

Debbie had gone to use the bathroom and returned, watching from the doorway as Vera and Joan danced around the kitchen to ‘ _When All is Said And Done’._

_‘In our lives, we have walked some strange and lonely treks  
Slightly worn, but dignified, and not too old for sex  
We're still striving for the sky  
No taste for humble pie  
Thanks for all your generous love and thanks for all the fun  
Neither you nor I'm to blame when all is said and done’ _

She peeked around the corner, watching as the two women moved from one side of the kitchen to the other in a slow dance, cheek to cheek and Vera stood on her toes to press a kiss under Joan’s ear. They both had soft smiles on their faces, and Debbie could hear Joan humming along to the song as they clutched each other closely.

Debbie clutches at the doorframe. ‘ _That’s what love is. That’s what it’s supposed to be like.’_ She thought to herself. It wasn’t even a big moment, there were no huge declarations of ‘I love you!’ or dramatic kisses. It was simply two people, very much in love with each other, sharing a moment together. Debbie can’t remember when her own parents ever said that they loved each other, much less shared a cute moment. She doesn’t quite know how she feels about that. The fact that her mother stayed with her dad, a man who regularly beat her, and didn’t try to get away. Then the mess with Bea trying to kill him. She would never admit to anyone what had actually happened that day, what she interrupted by coming home from school early. As far as she was concerned, her dad tried to kill himself in their car and that’s all there was to it. Debbie didn’t see why her mother had to suffer when her dad had been the one that caused misery all their lives. She can still see her mum’s panicked face that day. She sees it when she sleeps.

Debbie blinks, and she’s peeking around the doorway again, still watching the two women in the kitchen. At the end of the song, Joan has dipped Vera, holding her up with an arm firmly around her waist and overdramatically kissing up Vera’s chest and neck up until she reaches her mouth in a move similar to what Debbie has seen Gomez Addams do to Morticia in the films. Vera is giggling in response, not shying away from the affection and presses a soft kiss in return to Joan’s smiling mouth.

“That tickles!” Vera is squirming and still laughing as Joan sets her upright. The timer on Vera’s phone pings, showing that it’s time to take the food out of the oven, and Debbie quickly rushes back into the kitchen, eager to join in.

“You okay, Debs?” Vera asks her gently, knowing that the teenager had been stalling at the doorway, but not wanting to point it out. Debbie nods and grins at her as her stomach rumbles, announcing it’s displeasure at not being fed.

Debbie is given a pair of oven mitts, and a gentle warning to watch her wrists on the sides of the oven as she pulls the pasta dish out, whilst Joan grips the handle of the skillet with a teatowel, depositing it on a heatproof mat on the counter. Debbie carefully manoeuvres the dish next to the skillet and is given the task of dishing up as Joan plates the garlic bread, the smell of both the pasta and the bread seeping throughout the kitchen.

They eat at the kitchen island, perched on the stools as Joan and Vera share the last half of a bottle of wine, and Debbie has a Coke. There’s gentle conversation, such as how would she like to decorate her room, seeing as she could be with them for some time, and was there anything specific that she wanted from her house? The plan was to visit the teenagers house the next day, as Harry would be detained until Monday and it would give them a chance to get whatever Debbie wanted without any altercation. If Brayden appeared, they would deal with it.

“I’d really like my sewing machine, if that’s okay?” The teenager asks, nervously looking between the faces of the two women, waiting for the annoyance to appear. When it didn’t, she watched as Vera’s face broke into a smile.

“You sew?”

Debbie nods. “My gran taught me, before she died. Dad hated me doing it though, said the noise of the machine was annoying.” She looks unsure of herself, staring down at her plate, half eaten. Joan and Vera share a look. “I used to stay up when I was sure he’d gone to bed, and practice. I think he just didn’t want me doing something for myself. For a while, mum managed to sneak me into some lessons too but when dad found out…” she trailed off. She remembers the incident, Harry had flown into a rage, claiming that the sewing classes were a waste of money and that he wouldn’t pay to have his daughter flouncing about with a sewing machine. She’d been eleven years old, and indignant that he would try to take away the only thing she did for herself outside of school. She’d mouthed off at him, as any eleven-year-old would when their only hobby was at risk. It was the closest her dad had ever come to hitting her, she thinks. He’d come toward her, fist half raised. But her mum had gotten in between them, and for the first time ever, Bea’s fury had outdone Harry’s.

She’d been sent out of the house and she’d run to the library a few streets away, immersing herself in all the old Vogue magazines that they had there, admiring the clothes from different eras. When she came home after the sky had started to darken, her sewing machine that she’d saved for weeks to buy with her pocket money from the second hand shop was in pieces on the concrete in the backyard, and her mother was wearing long sleeved tops again despite the heat of the summer. Her father had come back a day later, a purple bruise on his face, which she’d never seen her father have before.

Harry never raised his hand against Debbie again.

A few weeks later, when Debbie had turned twelve, a new Singer sewing machine had been sat on the kitchen table, along with a few bolts of pretty fabric that Bea had managed to find for a good price. Harry never complained about the new machine, except for the noise being annoying and Debbie had retreated to her bedroom, clutching the large box with reverence. It had taken weeks to get out of the habit of hiding the machine under her bed or in the back of the wardrobe whenever she left the house, thinking that her dad might change his mind and destroy it like he had her old one.

He never did.

“Well I think the bedroom has plenty of space for a sewing area, don’t you think darling?” Joan recognises the significance of the sewing machine, thinking back to when her own father had destroyed her favourite copy of The Secret Garden in front of her, claiming it was a distraction from her fencing training when she was fourteen. Joan thinks that her hatred of her father cemented itself then. When she’d secretly bought herself another copy, she’d hidden it with practiced skill and she’d made a point of sitting next to her father on his deathbed, reading it aloud from cover to cover. Cruel? Joan didn’t think so. She felt it justice for destroying one of the only things that she had left of her mother.

“We can visit Ikea and see what we can get to make a decent setup for you, Debs.” Vera understands too. Whilst her mother had never been physically abusive, she’d used emotional manipulation with ease. She saw it for what it was now, but for years, she’d been in denial about it. Gardening had been her escape, and her mother had doused her rosebush in weed killer when she went for a sleepover with the only friend she had at eleven years old. When Vera had returned home, grabbed a watering can as usual, and found her roses dead and wilted, she’d cried. And then her mother had come up behind her, stating how useless she was at gardening and there was no point her doing it anymore. It had taken a few weeks for Vera to find the empty pesticide bottle, thrown in the back of the shed. She’d flown into a fury, ripping up her mother’s daisies, and chrysanthemums. She’d dug up the entire flower beds, in the front and back garden, leaving carnage in destroyed flowers. After that, she’d never touched the garden again, but had grown her own little flowerpots in her bedroom, that she hid on the ledge outside her window so her mother couldn’t get to them.

Debbie’s mind is reeling with the women’s offer to her. “You’d let me set up a sewing space? Really?”

Both women nodded, offering gentle smiles. “We get it, Debs. We’ve all got our own stories, and we wont bore you with ours, but if you want a sewing space, we’ll help you set one up however you want.” Vera says, ripping off a piece of garlic bread as Joan plates another portion of pasta onto her own plate, nodding.

Debbie finds herself on her feet, rushing towards them and embracing both women in a joint hug. Joan is careful that the pasta doesn’t get on Debbie’s clothes, placing the plate down on the counter, and then she squeezes the teenager in return.

When they’ve finished, they all help clear the counter and clean the dishes, despite the bet they had earlier. They relax, watching some tv and when Debbie retreated back to her bedroom to sleep, she made sure to hug them again, offering her thanks.

The two women watch her go, and hear the quiet click of her door and they turn to one another.

“You know, it’s high time I told you that I love you, Vera Bennett.” Joan says quietly, with a smile. Vera’s brain freezes at hearing the words, and Joan worries that she’s said it too soon or something equally as ridiculous. But then Vera’s face develops a grin that nearly splits her face and she launches herself at her girlfriend, knocking Joan onto her back on the sofa and the shorter woman hovers above her.

“I love you too.” Is all she whispers, and then she kisses Joan with a ferocity that she’s never kissed her with before. Wrapping her arms around the slim waist above her, she pulls Vera close and their legs tangle on the sofa, Vera’s foot kicking off one of the decorative cushions.

Breathlessly, they share a laugh, resting their foreheads against each other.

“Bad time to say that you might as well move in?”

Vera hides her face in Joan’s shoulder to muffle her laughter. She presses kisses under Joan’s ear and down her neck, causing the woman’s eyes to flutter shut.

“ _Our bedroom. Now.”_ The husky order makes Joan’s eyes snap open, and glance over to Vera, seeing her glazed eyes and smirk, and Joan grasps Vera’s waist firmly, rising from the sofa and tossing her over her shoulder.

Vera cackles the entire way into the bedroom and smacks Joan’s behind from her place upside down on her shoulder as they pass through the door.

Later, as they lay naked, side by side and breathing heavily on top of the covers, Vera turns her head to look at her girlfriend.

Joan’s hair is messier than she’s ever seen it, on account of Vera grabbing it multiple times, and rolling around the bed quite a lot. She’s sure that her own hair is no better.

Her eyes are drawn to the hickey she’s left on Joan’s left breast, and she smirks. _That_ had been fun.

She knew without a doubt that Joan had left a fair few on Vera’s body, but as usual, Vera didn’t mind.

“So, in case you didn’t understand me when I said ‘our bedroom’ earlier,” She whispers, shuffling closer to Joan. “That was a very enthusiastic yes to moving in.”

“Oh really? I couldn’t tell.” She says sarcastically, with a wide grin that shows how happy she is with her.

“To be fair, I have been living here anyway. It’s just a case of bringing my clothes and few preferred items over.”

They lay there, arms around each other, enjoying the silence for a few moments. 

“Shit, did we leave the tv on?”

By the time Vera slips back into the bedroom, Joan has already pulled the covers down and has settled underneath on the pillows. Vera happily scoots in next to her, quickly shedding the robe she had grabbed from the back of the bedroom door.

Joan falls asleep first, with a murmured ‘ _love you’_ before her breaths even out and Vera rests her head on top of the black hair of her girlfriend, sighing happily and she closes her eyes.

* * *

They both groan at the sound of the alarm.

“Do you hate me, Vera?” Joan’s voice is muffled due to her face being in Vera’s breast but she can hear her perfectly. “Why else would you have such an annoying alarm?”

“We’ve already snoozed it twice.”

A noncommittal grunt is all she gets. Vera can’t help the smile that spreads on her face. Joan would never be a morning person, but there were ways to make her more cheerful. Dare she say, chirpy even.

In a quick move, she flips them, so that Joan is laying on her back, wide eyed and slightly dazed. She hadn’t expected Vera to do such a move, although she certainly won’t complain about her taking charge.

It _is_ very sexy, after all.

Vera hovers over her, straddling her hips and grinning cheekily with her curls ticking Joan’s cheek.

“Oh no, Miss Bennett, you have me trapped here, whatever shall I do?!” Joan sighs in a falsetto, acting the damsel in distress perfectly. All she’s missing is the hand raised to her forehead as if she’s about to swoon.

Vera can’t help it, she starts to laugh at the display. “Stop that! I’m trying to be very sexy and you’re not helping!”

Joan practically cackles, then makes a show of lifting her arms and resting her hands behind her head, and lifts her chest slightly, making her breasts move and drawing Vera’s eyes south. 

She smirks at her. “By all means, darling. Be very sexy.”

Vera leans in so she can whisper in Joan’s ear. “Oh baby, I plan to.” She half whispers, half moans.

All previous thought of the nickname ‘baby’ being horrid is erased from Joan’s mind, and all she can think about is finding a way to make Vera call her it in bed again.

Vera felt Joan pause, and then felt her cheek lifting, obviously in a smile, so she took that as her cue.

Dropping slow and languid kisses down her neck, Vera made her way down Joan’s body, dropping a gentle kiss on the lovebite that she left on her breast, a breath away from her nipple. She hears Joan’s sharp intake of breath and grins as she continues to pepper kisses down her stomach, and at her hips.

Joan watches as Vera’s curly hair disappeared underneath the duvet, leaving a trail of fire from her kisses as she continued southward. She reaches her arms out, away from her head, and fists one of the pillows in her hand as Vera got closer and closer to where she wanted her to be the most.

She could feel Vera’s breath on her centre, and the anticipation built in her stomach…

…and Vera diverted her kisses to her inner thigh.

“Vera!” She whines, running her hand through her own hair. “That’s not playing fair.”

Vera laughs, the sound muffled by the duvet but she makes sure that she’s close enough to Joan’s already dripping centre so that every laugh is felt.

Joan huffs, but she can’t stop the grin growing on her face.

Vera drops one final kiss on her inner thigh, gently using her shoulder to push Joan’s leg further apart. She takes the hint, and moves her leg. Vera spends a few seconds breathing closely to Joan’s slit, that Vera can see is glistening, even in the dimness under the duvet. Without warning, she flicks her tongue across Joan’s clit, making her jerk in surprise, a noise resembling a squeak sneaking out of Joan’s mouth.

Taking her time, Vera laps languidly from her centre up to her clit, stroking whisper-light touches along Joan’s inner thigh. Hearing the happy sigh come from above her, she continues, increasing the pressure of her tongue on her clit and picks up the pace. 

“Jesus Vera!”

Smirking, she continues her licking and sucking, only this time, she gently adds a finger, curling and stroking in that spot she knows drives Joan crazy.

It does.

As the pressure begins to build in her abdomen, Joan throws her head back, clenching the pillow and the bedsheet. When Vera adds a second digit, her back arches off the bed, heady moans escaping from her mouth. As Vera picks up the pace, she reaches a hand up and drapes it over Joan’s right breast, rubbing her thumb back and forth over the nipple.

She continues her ministrations, using more pressure with her tongue on the clit, sucking lightly. She can feel Joan’s walls beginning to flutter around her fingers, and adds more pressure to her fingers as they gently caress her. She removes her mouth and replaces it with her thumb, rubbing gently but firmly as she presses kisses up Joan’s thigh.

Joan’s hand has stopped clutching at the pillow and has covered Vera’s on her breast as her ministrations cause her legs to start to tremble.

Finally, as Vera can feel Joan come closer to her climax, she places her mouth back on her clit and sucks and licks with all her might.

Joan comes with a cry that she muffles with her forearm, remembering a bit too late that they aren’t alone in the apartment anymore.

Vera isn’t finished yet though.

Wet from simply watching her girlfriend come, Vera gently removes her fingers and climbs up Joan’s body, emerging from under the duvet. She’s breathing heavily, but not willing to let Vera go unsatisfied. She sits up, hair a mess, and lays back against the pillows so that she’s propped up and guides Vera onto her thigh, pushing her foot into the mattress and bending her leg so that the shorter woman slides forward into a spot that is apparently the perfect pressure point if her loud and pleased gasp is anything to go by.

Joan wraps her arm around her waist and presses a kiss to her chin and then focuses on the pair of breasts currently swaying in front of her as Vera’s hips have already started gyrating. Feeling the slick heat on the top of her thigh, she grins and presses gentle kisses down the slope of Vera’s left breast, repaying the favour to Vera for her slow speed earlier.

“You…you…” She’s breathless as she undulates against Joan’s thigh, panting heavily as the sensation feels _fucking incredible._ “You _tease!”_ she gasps.

Joan grasps the back of Vera’s neck gently, using her spare hand to grip Vera’s hip to make sure she kept grinding on her thigh as she straightens her spine so that she can hum huskily into her ear:

“Abso- _fucking-_ lutely _.”_

Joan’s cursing makes a haggard gasp erupt from Vera, and suddenly she’s rubbing herself on Joan’s thigh with a ferocity as if it were her last day on earth. She wraps her arms around Joan’s neck and pushes herself down harder on her leg as Joan lowers her head to pay attention to the stiff peaks moving in front of her. Taking one in her mouth, she rubs her tongue over it, matching the pace of Vera’s hips the best she can.

Vera is panting, gyrating for all she’s worth as she feels the tell-tale tightening and pressure building. Joan can tell, so she sits up, and moves her thigh in a rhythmic movement against Vera, so that no matter which way her hips move, Vera is having the sensation of rubbing against her clit constantly.

“Joan…holy _shit,_ Joan!”

The woman in question grins, and leaves open mouthed kisses between the her breasts, and drags her blunted nails down Vera’s back, from her shoulder blades down to her backside, where she cups both cheeks and helps her find her release.

“Oh fuck, baby, I’m almost there!” Encouraged by Vera’s moans, Joan continues to grasp her backside and puts her mouth on one of Vera’s nipples and sucks for all she’s worth.

Vera comes with a cry that Joan half muffles with a kiss. Shuddering and her legs shaking, Vera’s orgasm rolls into a second as Joan continues to move her thigh, and Vera can’t help but make her hips continue to move. She rests her head in Joan’s shoulder as she rides out the second, breathing harshly as she catches her breath. Joan drops one last kiss to her breast and then leans back, relaxing into the pillows, Vera still on her thigh and now leaning against her. She wraps her arm around her middle, as the sweat from both their bodies makes them feel sticky.

“Show off.” Vera whispers. “I owe you at least one now.”

“Hm, I’m sure you’ll even the scoreboard somehow.” Joan simply murmurs back.

They really should move, but right now they felt too boneless to do anything but whisper to each other.

“Fucking love you, Ferguson.”

Joan erupts into laughter. “I should hope so, seeing as I bloody love you, Bennett.”

Finally, they manage to find the will to move.

However, when Vera pulls Joan into the en-suite with a filthy grin, they both know that it won’t be a quick shower.

The door closed with a gentle thud.

Vera was right, she definitely had a way of making Joan Ferguson _chirpy_ in the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back in a lockdown so hopefully that could mean more chapters seeing as I'll be stuck at home. Fingers crossed!
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments you lovely people, they really give me productivity. <3


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brayden tries to push his luck, Vera finds her own version of hell and Joan calls in some favours that have a far reaching effect.

The morning had started well enough, all three piling into Joan’s car to make their way to Debbie’s house. Debbie offered directions, and soon enough, the sleek black car is pulling into the top of the cul de sac and stopping in front of a medium sized house that matches the rest of the estate.

It’s a regular looking house, with pebbles in the front yard with a small rectangle of grass, and a tiled path up to the front door from the pavement. There’s a few potted plants, beside the two steps that lead up to the front porch, and a small table next to the front door, protected by the porch roof from the elements.

They stay in the car for a moment, Joan noticing through the rear-view mirror that Debbie has gone pale. She turns in her seat to gaze at her.

“You ready?” Debbie moves her gaze from the house outside to Joan, who along with Vera is looking at her in worry.

She swallows thickly, then nods. She doesn’t move out of the car. Joan, feeling her shoulder protesting at the unnatural position of trying to reach between the car seats opens the car door and gets out. Vera wonders what she’s doing until she sees the woman walk around the back of the car and then open the door next to Debbie. She’s half bent, looking at the teenager and she holds out her hand.

“We’re here, both of us, every step of the way.” She says, as Debbie slips her smaller hand into hers, and unbuckles her seatbelt. Vera smiles to herself as she hears the click, and does the same, climbing out of the car and shutting the door. She stands behind Joan, and rests her hand on the small of her back.

Together, they walk up the path, Debbie staying in between both women as she grips her key for the front door in her hand. The door is unlocked with one turn of the key and it swings open, and all three of them wrinkle their noses at the smell of stale air.

“Come on, Debs. The sooner we can get your things, the sooner we can go to IKEA, and get your sewing space sorted, hm?” Vera rubs her hand on her back and Debbie, buoyed by Vera’s encouragement, steps into the house and quickly leads them to her bedroom.

The room hasn’t changed much since she was a little girl. The only thing that had been changed was the crib had turned into a solid single bed, with a white bedframe and pink duvet covers and the addition of a desk when her dad had complained about her doing her homework at the kitchen table. The wall behind her desk is covered in small posters, stickers that have been stuck on the paint for years and various school reports. The desk is littered with stationary and notebooks. Debbie thinks to herself to remember to grab her old copies of Vogue from one of the drawers.

The three stand in the door.

“Where’s your sewing machine, we’ll get that stowed away safe and sound first, hm?” Joan suggests, and Debbie moves forward, dropping to her knees in front of her bed and reaching underneath, her hands quickly finding the large box that she’d put her machine back in before she’d left for the disastrous visit at the prison before the two women had helped her.

Joan is next to her, grasping the edges of the box and hefting it into her arms and confirming that all the parts and wires were safe in the box from Debbie, she takes it out to the car, unlocking it and placing the box in the trunk, carefully moving it into the corner so it would be secure. She reaches up and closes the lid of the trunk, and locks the car again with one button from the keys and goes back inside. Joan can see that a woman in the house opposite has come onto their porch, and is flicking through a meagre pile of post in an attempt to pretend that she has a reason to be looking at Joan and her car.

Joan, simply lifts her hand and waves, making the woman jump, and rush back into her house in embarrassment of being caught.

She returns inside.

Vera has managed to be very quick in gathering some of Debbie’s things in the five minutes that she was outside. Debbie has her suitcase open on the bed, and Vera is quickly folding clothes into it as the teenager places her favourite books, sewing patterns and other things into a plastic box that she found under her bed. There’s a cardboard box sat on the bed next to the open suitcase and Joan can see the fabric poking out of the top. By the time Joan has reached the bed to grab the box of fabric, Debbie has snapped the plastic lid onto the box and holds it in her arms. With a fond smile, and a gesture of her head, Joan and Debbie walk out to the car, repeating the process of opening the trunk from earlier. Both boxes are carefully slid next to the sewing machine and the trunk closed.

Together, they get every single thing that Debbie wants to bring with her from the house. Eventually, her clothes all fit into two suitcases, including her uniform for school. She has all her school books, and her stationary in one box. The trunk is full, and Debbie has a box of random knickknacks on the seat next to her and in her hands, she cradles a leather photo album. It’s filled with pictures of just her and her mother throughout her childhood. She’d done this deliberately, she didn’t want any pictures of her dad in the album, and on the last page was a little note from six months ago, in Bea’s handwriting to say that she was popping out to the shop and that she loved her. It was a nice touch.

Vera and Joan are closing the trunk of the car when the sound of footsteps makes Joan and Vera stiffen.

They recognise that walk.

“Well, well, ladies. How surprising to see you here. Is Debbie with you?” They turn and glare at the nineteen year old blonde who is stood on the pavement, one hand in his jeans pocket and a cocky grin on his face. He tries to look behind them but Joan blocks his way as Vera slams the trunk shut. Debbie clutches the album close to her chest, heart hammering after hearing the sound of Brayden’s voice.

“That would be none of your business, now wouldn’t it?” Joan’s voice is low, and dangerous. She’s not willing to let this little boy make Debbie feel unsafe again, not when they’d started getting her out of her shell.

“Debbie isn’t interested, Brayden. She’s made that perfectly clear.” Vera steps beside Joan, stopping the young man from advancing any further down the pavement on Debbie’s side of the car.

“If I want to see Debbie, there’s nothing two dyke MILFS can do to stop it.” Although well aware of the slur that the idiot boy has called them, as well as the abbreviation that teenage boys seem so fond of, the threat to Debbie is enough to make her face pull into a snarl and advance on him.

It isn’t a move that he’s expecting, and the shock registers on his face as he quickly backs away as Joan reaches out her hand, and yanks him forward by the collar of his shirt. He clutches at her fingers, trying to get her to release her tight grip that is pinching his throat, with no success. Joan’s anger is too strong to react to the scrabbling at her hand.

“Now listen here, little boy.” She’s nose to nose with him at this point and she can feel Vera’s hand on the bottom of her back. The shorter woman isn’t stopping or impeding her in any way, simply offering a silent gesture of her support. “You are a very small fish in a very big pond, and believe me, I know enough sharks that can wipe out your entire family. I wont even need to break a sweat to do that. That includes you, your daddy and even mother dearest currently sitting in a cell in Wentworth. So you get this final warning. Leave Debbie alone. You don’t look at her, you don’t speak to her. You don’t even think of her. If I find you anywhere near her school, you will wish that you had never laid eyes on her. _Understand?”_ The last sentence is a whisper, and Joan glares into his face, until she gets a weak nod in response.

She holds him there for a moment more, then throws him away from her, making him stumble back and then try and regain some previous swagger. He opens his mouth to say something back to the pair, but when Vera takes one threatening step forward, he blanches, blinks once and stalks off down the pavement.

“Remind me to take a very convoluted route home, I don’t want the chance of him following us.” Vera nods in response, and reaches out to grasp Joan’s hand. She feels a squeeze back. “I’m going to have to call in some favours when we get home with some people. I don’t want to take any chances with him.”

Vera looks at her, noting the raised eyebrow and offers her a smile. Vera steps closer to her and presses her lips to Joan’s in reassurance. “You know I’ve got your back, no matter what. Now let’s scandalize the nosy woman peeking through her window at us in the house opposite.”

Sure enough, when Joan’s eyes flick up to the house, there’s the nosy woman from earlier, stood in the front window looking at them, only this time she has a pair of opera glasses. Lord knows where she got those. The front windows to the house are open, and the black haired woman knows for a fact that they weren’t that way earlier.

She smirks back at Vera and then cups her face and brings her into a steamy kiss that makes Vera’s heart pound as she gently grips Joan’s wrists, forgetting the potential audience in the house opposite.

“HAROLD, THEY’RE LESBIANS!” the screech comes from the house, and both women can hear the metallic clunk of the opera glasses falling to the floor. Both women start to laugh, unable to stifle it.

“Are you finished giving Mrs Westley an aneurysm?” Debbie’s voice is amused as she pokes her head out of the car door that is now open. Vera stands on her toes and presses one last kiss to Joan’s lips and the two make their way to the car, taking their seats and buckling in.

The sleek, black car pulls away, and Debbie doesn’t spare a glance back at the house that has never really felt like a home to her or her mum.

* * *

Vera was in hell.

Absolute hell.

Hell had a name, and it was IKEA.

She kept a hand on the trolley as Joan and Debbie flit around from one piece of furniture to another, debating the qualities and usefulness of each one. In the end, they decided on a simple desk that had an extension that could be folded out into the middle of the teenager’s new bedroom, giving her space to cut fabric and sew. When it wasn’t in use, it could be folded back down and out of the way. The flatpack went into the trolley, along with a stool that would match the grey of the bedroom. The teenager had decided to keep the original colours, thinking it was a nice change to the pink she’d had before.

Then they reached the organisation section.

She’d never seen two more excited people over plastic tubs and boxes before. And then dividers. And labels. And more excitement over the potential space under the double bed. Joan put six wide and narrow plastic tubs in the trolley for that part of the bedroom. Vera had stared at her with one raised eyebrow.

“What? She can keep her fabric and sewing things there! It’s wasted space otherwise!” She explains, and Debbie glances over from where she’s reverently looking at a ballerina figurine, up on her toes in an arabesque pose. Vera and Joan watch as she shakes her head a little, sighing sadly and wanders over to the magazine holders on the other side of the aisle. Joan watches as Vera gently picks up the figurine that the teenager had walked away from, noting how the blue tutu that the ballerina is wearing matches the bedroom colour perfectly. She feels Joan behind her, reaching up and gently picking up another figurine, in a different pose, also on her toes, with her arms above her head. She then reaches up a third time, to the shelf above Vera’s eyeline, and brings down one final ballerina, this one sat down, with one leg bent and the other stretched out as the figurine is frozen in the process of tying the ribbons on her shoes. All three of the ballerinas tutus are dusted lightly with glitter, making them catch in the light.

The two women spare a glance over their shoulders, seeing that Debbie’s back was turned to them as she looked at the shelf. Quickly and quietly, the two women placed all three figurines into the trolley, quickly covering them with some of the cushions that Vera had liked the look of, thinking they would match the living room nicely.

Together, they help the young girl pick out a desk to be able to do her schoolwork, and even Vera got excited over the possibilities for the workspace. Debbie and Joan shared a grin as Vera debated over the point of whether drawers were required. Vera argued that they were, whilst Joan jokingly said that they weren’t needed.

“Wasted space!” Vera threw her girlfriend’s previous statement back at her, causing the three of them to giggle and quickly move on, a desk in the trolley along with the flatpack set for drawers.

“You can build those.” Joan said, already seeing the back and noting how many pieces there were.

Eventually they make their way to the checkout, and Vera distracts Debbie when the young man scanned the ballerinas and Joan quickly hid them in her tote bag, careful that they didn’t break.

Somehow, they managed to fit everything in the car, although the stool and the bag of décor had to be placed on the seat next to Debbie in the back.

The older women are glad that they had the forethought to drop off Debbie’s things at the apartment first.

When they arrived home, they placed Debbie in charge of the kettle and making coffee as the two women got to work bringing their haul from the car. It took four trips, and by the time they had everything in Debbie’s room, it was time for lunch.

With Vera and Debbie eating a sandwich, Joan excused herself to their bedroom, sharing a significant look with Vera as she explained that she had some phone calls to make and dropped a small kiss on Vera’s forehead as she passed her.

She dials the first number as she walks through the doorway, closing the door as she begins to speak.

“Ah David, just the man I needed to speak to. I’m calling in that favour you owe me, and for good reason…”

* * *

Vera knew exactly what Joan was doing in the bedroom, she’d explained quickly to her whilst Debbie had been in the bathroom.

There was one way to get Brayden Holt to back off. In the underworld of crime in Melbourne, the Holt family were very minor, and there truly were some shark families in the city. All of them hated any violence against minors, and made sure to not involve themselves in anything of that kind. And most of the families in Melbourne owed Joan a favour or two when she ensured the safety of their members when they arrived in her prisons. There was nothing untoward happening, they were more requests that Joan could fulfil, such as a drug addict daughter being clean and scared sober by the time her release came or a family member needing to be put into protection for safety from other families. In the bigger picture of prison, these small things were very minor but it meant that there were favours owed to the Governor of Bahnhurst from most of the families in Melbourne, and they all knew it.

And Joan intended to collect them now. Most of the criminal families would enjoy a chance to make the Holts even more minor than they were.

Once the two had finished their lunch, they made a start on trying to assemble the furniture. Vera agreed to start on the drawers, whilst the teenager decided to tackle the sewing table.

Fifteen minutes pass and Debbie has half the desk assembled, but Vera is still sitting with a pile of pieces and hardware in front of her, looking furiously at the instructions and mumbling curse words under her breath.

By the time they’ve been at it for half an hour and Joan walks in, Debbie’s sewing table is complete and she’s already opening the box for the desk.

Vera has managed to assemble one side of a drawer and is flicking through the instructions repeatedly.

“So, going well?” She quips, stifling a laugh at the rude gesture that Vera throws up behind her back, using her index and middle finger.

Joan walks further into the room, dropping to her knees next to her girlfriend, and after checking that Debbie was alright with the desk, started helping Vera assemble the drawers. After three hours, Debbie’s bedroom was exactly how she wanted it. The sewing table with her machine was set up on one wall, with a large plastic tub tucked underneath, with her bolts of fabric and other supplies inside. Under her bed were the dress patterns and copies of Vogue, safe from any tearing of the paper. Her clothes were hanging in the wardrobe, and her shoes had been given a home in the bottom half. Her desk was on the wall opposite the wardrobe, with a noticeboard now hanging on the wall for anything important and her schoolbooks on the desk. The stool was tucked underneath, and would be used between the two tables as was needed. Joan ducked out into the hallway, finding her tote bag and quickly grabbing the three figurines wrapped in tissue paper and returned to the bedroom, where both Debbie and Vera were sat on the bed admiring their hard work.

The teenager looks confused when Joan places the three tissue wrapped parcels in her lap gently, and then sits next to Vera.

“These are a ‘New Home’ present.” Vera explains and gestures for her to open them. They watch as the girl’s eyes light up and sparkle as the ballerinas are unveiled, and she clutches the one in the arabesque pose to her chest as she gasps her thanks.

“We thought they would look lovely on the top of your dresser, there.” Joan points to the dresser placed at the wall opposite the bottom of the bed and Debbie is quick to give them pride of place in their new home.

She sniffs, thinking about how the two women had noticed her small reaction to the figurines and had acted on them. She turns and throws herself into their embrace. She’s happy and grateful but she’s also sad and she doesn’t really understand why.

“I don’t know how to thank you enough. I don’t want you to think that I’m ungrateful, really.” Her voice is small, and Joan is quick to wrap her arms around Vera and the teenager and hold them to her, offering reassurance to the girl.

“We know that you’re grateful, sweetie. Really we do. And these were something we wanted to get you, that you didn’t really need but you loved anyway. You needed the desk, and the sewing table. You needed something for your creativity. But you love those figurines and they are a good way to signify a fresh start, hm?” Vera rubs away the tears from the girl’s cheeks, and then brings her into a hug as Joan rubs her hair.

After calming and reassuring the teenager some more, Joan suggests some tea and they all agree and as they sit around the island, Joan and Vera set some ground rules.

“We don’t mind you having friends round, but a maximum of two at a time, and ask us first please.” Debbie nodded, that sounded fair and it was far more than what she could have done in her old house.

“On a school night, light out by 11pm at the latest, alright? And homework done when you first get home, so you can relax the rest of the night. I’m sure between me and Vera we can help you with anything you struggle with.” Debbie nodding along. Most of her friends had similar rules in their own houses, and she appreciates that the two women are trying to settle some sort of routine.

“We’ll get a key cut for the front door tomorrow for you, and we can see how it will be possible to get you to and from school every day. Sometimes you might need to be here on your own if our shifts overlap, but we’ll keep in touch with everything that’s going on, alright?” Vera says, pushing a mug of steaming tea across the counter for her and Debbie grasps it in her hands.

“Really, those are the more serious ones. I would like to ask that at night you keep your phone out here, so you can actually sleep without being interrupted.” Debbie looks down, embarrassed and both women notice.

“I don’t have a phone.” She mumbles, still looking at the floor. A pale finger makes her chin rise up to look into Joan’s dark eyes. 

“We’ll sort that tomorrow too, then.” She says. “It’s really a safety thing, if something happens and you need us, you’ll be able to call.”

Debbie nervously fidgets with her hands as she listened to her, then nodded.

“I only have one more request, I promise. We’d like for you to learn some self-defence, so that if you’re ever in a bad situation again, you can get yourself away to find help.” Debbie is curious now, both women can see it and Joan carries on, explaining. “We go to a studio where we practice, and there’s classes there, and we go usually around four times a week, so we can get you set up.”

The idea of being able to take care of herself is very appealing to Debbie. Her mind jumps to all the times she had burrowed herself under her bed when her dad had started hitting her mother, the sound of a fist hitting skin making her flinch and wishing that she could stop him.

“I’d like that.” She says. “I’ll help out with chores too, I know that all my friends are expected to do that in their own homes.”

Vera reaches over to ruffle her hair. “You’re a good egg, Debs.”

“Well it would be rather odd if she was a good avocado, now wouldn’t it?” Joan quips, sipping her own tea.

Laughter fills the kitchen.

* * *

Later in the evening, when Debbie was settled in her new room and Joan and Vera were cuddled under the duvet of their own bed, Joan explained the favours that she’d called in.

“…as I expected, they were all horrified that a young girl was involved. But I think they were more annoyed that Vinnie Holt is letting his son do as he pleases. It puts them all at risk if he cant control him. So they’re going to send a message. Vera…”

Vera looks up, noting the nervous tone of voice and furrowed eyebrows. “Hm?”

“Something might happen to his mother in Wentworth to get the point across.”

Vera blinks, letting that information seep into her brain. “You mean, kill her?”

“God no!” Joan shakes her head, making her hair move against the pillow. “More like something to get the point across that she needs to reel in her boy.”

Vera sighs in relief. “Well, that’s less paperwork at least.”

Joan pokes her in the stomach. “The family gets one warning first, and if they don’t do as they’re told, something else happened but I didn’t ask what.”

“Plausible deniability, for us then.” Joan nods, draping an arm around Vera’s shoulder. “I just hope that I’m not in work when it happens.”

The pair continue to talk until Vera’s eyes get heavy, and she presses herself closer to her girlfriend, yawning and resting her head on Joan’s shoulder. Joan reaches behind her to touch the base of the lamp to turn it off, dousing the room in darkness and together, they drift off to sleep.

* * *

The three women in the apartment spend the morning lazily watching TV, Debbie sleepily leaning against Joan who was leaning into Vera who sat in the corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee.

Eventually they decide to get up to go and get a key for the front door for Debbie and to sort her a phone out.

As they start to walk out of the door, Vera’s work phone chimes from the table. She quickly looks over as she reached for her personal phone.

WILL : _Jacs Holt in hospital with shattered hand. Suspected attack in the gym._

Vera blinks once, and then closes the phone down, not bothering to answer. Will wont expect an answer anyway, knowing her own personal policy of not answering work texts unless it was an absolute emergency.

Half of her feels that she should feel more about the fact that Jacs had a smashed hand. The other half doesn’t really care, seeing as her son was the one scaring Debbie. The woman had raised him to think of himself as a prince after all. So Vera thought that much of the issue was Jacs' fault.

Either way, it was done, and it looked like one of Joan’s favours had paid off.

“Vera?” She looks over to her girlfriend who is looking at her in concern and walks closer to her.

Vera simply walks into her arms, and wraps her own around Joan’s middle, pushing closer to the black haired woman. 

“You do know how much I appreciate what you did to keep Debbie safe, don’t you?” She presses a kiss to Joan’s mouth, smiling fondly. “Our protector, Joan.”

She watches as a red tint grows from her neck up to her cheeks and then presses another kiss to her lips. “Come on, the sooner we go, the sooner we can come back and I can find out how low that blush goes.”

A squeeze to her backside is the only response she gets, as well as a salacious grin as they go to Debbie who is tying her shoes by the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so fluffy! Things will start to pick up from here, and it's gonna be interesting. 
> 
> And it looks like we'll be heading back to the Studio, with Debbie in tow!
> 
> I had to research stuff from IKEA for this, you guys. 
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos and comments, I always get that little flutter of excitement when I get an email saying that someone left a kudos or a comment! <3


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life returns to normal. 
> 
> Or at least, it tries to.

Monday morning rolls around, and real life forces its way into the apartment.

Monday meant work and school, and getting some sort of routine again. However, between the two women, Debbie’s uniform was washed, dried and ironed and was hanging on a hanger in her wardrobe, waiting for her to put it on. Her school bag was by the front door, homework completed and school books inside. Her lunch, prepared by Joan as she also made hers and Vera’s the night before, was carefully pulled out of the fridge, and placed in the bag, along with a sunhat and a small bottle of suncream by the black haired woman.

Needing to accompany the teenager to school to fill out paperwork in regards to Debbie’s emergency contact and the change in her address and living situation, Joan and Vera are in full uniform when they walk with her inside the administration building.

They walk on either side of Debbie, and the others passing them stare, and Joan has no doubt that they make an intimidating picture, with the both of them in complete black and heels. But the three of them are talking, smiling as they walk, and they’re soon disappearing through the double doors to the building.

It only takes fifteen minutes to get all the paperwork squared away, and Debbie is sent off to class, with a hug from the two women and Joan calling after her to eat her fruit. She grins and rolls her eyes good naturedly at her as she turns the corner.

“Miss Ferguson, Miss Bennett, now that Debbie has gone to class, can I have a word?” The headmistress is an older woman, with short white hair and an open face. A sleeveless blouse and high waisted trousers help her show her authority, as does the lanyard around her neck with the school’s logo.

They follow her through to her office and the headmistress opens a fairly full file on her desk.

“I hope that Debbie has settled with you.” The Headmistress smiles at the two women. “I just want to make sure that she can get some routine now so her education won’t suffer.”

“Understandable.” Joan nods. “Do you have an idea of what subjects that she might be struggling with? We’d like to help her as much as we can.”

Vera nods, looking over to Joan as the headmistress speaks again.

“She’s managed to keep up admirably in her English lessons, as well as in many of her other subjects. I would say that she is struggling with her maths, more than anything else. The other subjects will likely fall into place as she settles back into a routine but she may need a tutor with her maths.”

Vera finds herself nodding at the woman behind the desk. 

“She essentially told us that she’s struggling in maths, so we’ll give her a hand in that.”

A few more minutes spent discussing how to help the teenager and the two women are leaving the office and making their way back to the car.

“Do you think we should get her a tutor?” Vera asks, as Joan pulls out of the school carpark and begins the drive towards Wentworth to drop Vera off.

“Hm, maybe see if we can help her first? I don’t know how well she’d react to a stranger basically being thrust on her.”

Vera nods, agreeing with her. “When did you want to get her started at the Studio?”

“Sooner the better.”

“We’re going tonight, aren’t we? We’ll get Kevin to suggest the best one for her.” Joan grins at the mention of their friend. “They do dancing classes too, she might like that. Keep her occupied, give her a chance to make friends that aren’t from school?”

She can see Joan smiling to herself, and wonders why she’s doing it. So she asks her.

“I just think its funny how we sound like parents.” She turns onto the sliproad for the highway, picking up speed. “I never thought that I’d ever know what it felt like to have someone so completely dependent on me.”

Vera thinks about it for a moment, understanding. She never expected herself to have kids, and if she’s honest, thought that babies were great in small doses. Debbie was an unexpected curveball, but the teenager just fit perfectly with them, even if it was just a temporary thing until Bea was (hopefully) released.

She reaches across and rests her hand on Joan’s thigh.

Eventually, Joan is pulling into Wentworth’s carpark, and instead of finding a space, she pulls up to the entrance for the officers. Vera leans across and presses her lips to Joan’s forcing herself to pull away after a short while.

“See you at four?”

“I’ll be here.” She reassures her, and Vera gets out of the car. Joan rolls down the window as she walks in front of the car, and then pauses. Smirking to herself, she quickly walks over to the open window and reaches in, grasping Joan’s tie as she leans in and pulls Joan closer and presses one final, steamy kiss on the older woman’s lips.

“Now you can go.” She winks, and then walks through the entrance, heels clicking as she disappears into the building.

Joan chuckles to herself as the window winds itself upwards, and then she makes the journey from Wentworth to Bahnhurst, where Sophie would be waiting with a list of things that had happened over the weekend.

Both women keep their phones on them, in case Debbie called for any reason.

* * *

“So, Vera, you’ve kept the fact that you have a boyfriend quiet then.” Linda comments as she stirs sugar into her coffee as Vera dumps her plastic pocket with her purse and keys in her locker.

Vera notices the ‘boyfriend’ and turns to offer her a wry grin. “Wanna tell me how you know about the fact that I have a significant other?”

_Because I know Will won’t have said anything, and Linda can’t stand Erica._

Linda shrugs, still stirring the spoon. “I saw the very shiny black car that dropped you off. Plus the fact that you leant over to kiss someone through the window.”

 _“_ Good to know that you can still be observant, Linda.” Vera is being deliberately obtuse. Everyone at work will eventually know but she has always tried to keep her personal and work life separate when she can. And Linda had a very loose set of lips. Very little happened at Wentworth without Linda being bribed for information in one way or another. And every single officer was aware of it, and made a point of not telling Linda anything truly personal if they could help it.

“You’re not gonna tell me?”

“Not really, no.”

Linda huffs but lets it go, not really offended by it. Vera wasn’t close to her, she worked with the blonde, and that was all. When she’d done a complete 180 over a year ago, and rebuffed Fletch in every shape and form that she possibly could, whatever gripe Linda had with the deputy fell to the wayside.

Vera straightens her blazer, and then saunters out of the break room, heels clicking authoritatively as she went.

Linda goes back to her coffee, and trying to think of a way to text Fletch without making herself seem too desperate.

* * *

Vera was not expecting the shit-storm that she walked into.

The inmates were buzzing through the corridors and about their day with the same energy as aggravated bees, mostly due to the incident in the gym where Jacs Holt’s hand had been smashed with a weights machine. All of the women were claiming not to know who did it, but there had likely been a group working on orders from the other families of Melbourne. Someone would be ordered to take the flack for it, and would be given extra time on their sentences. She just didn’t know who yet.

Franky was walking around with cocky swagger, surrounded by her usual people. When Vera stepped outside into the sunshine to walk along the gates, everything was mostly calm as some women played basketball, others sat at the tables and others simply milled about.

Once she opened the gate and stepped onto the path, Bea stood from her seat at table next to Doreen and made a beeline over to her.

“Miss Bennett?” There’s a nervous air about her.

“What’s up, Smith?”

“How did Debbie do with going to school today? She didn’t give you or Miss Ferguson any trouble did she? I hope she didn’t…” Bea had only been in Wentworth for a few months, but apparently the habit of calling everyone by their last names had stuck already.

“Don’t worry, she went quite happily this morning with a bellyful of toast and a cup of tea. The school know that she’s with us, so that’s been settled. We’re going to try and get her back on track with her maths.” Bea looks relieved.

“She’s always struggled with it. She’s so good at creative stuff, like her writing, or her sewing but it’s like the maths never kept her attention because its boring.”

Vera scans the yard as Bea talks, noting how Franky is very curious at their conversation, as is the rest of the women who share Bea’s unit. Vera isn’t sure if they actually know the details of what’s gone on.

Her eyes flick up to the large window that stretches across the building above the gates to the units. It’s the windows to the Governor’s office, and Vera notices how Erica appears, and then flinches away with her face twisted in nervousness.

_What the hell is that about?_

“Would it be alright if I called her tonight, to ask how her day went at school?”

“It’s not a problem, Bea. I’ve already added the numbers you’ll need to your phone list. I’ll get Miss Miles or Mr Jackson to write them down for you. Leave it until about six, so she won’t get distracted by her dinner.”

Bea laughs a little, nods happily and practically bounces back to her spot at the table, much to the other women’s curiosity. Vera stalks towards the gate under the Governor’s windows, determined to find out what the hell has gone on in the three days that she’d been off work.

She doesn’t hear Bea fend off the women’s questions about why she’d needed to talk to the Deputy. Bea only said that she’d tell them later.

* * *

Vera doesn’t give Erica a chance to pretend that she isn’t hiding in her office.

Instead, she knocks harshly once, and then barges right in.

“Vera!”

“What has you so jittery that you can’t even look down into the yard, Erica?”

“What? Nothing.”

“If this is another ‘I need an escort around the prison’ situation I’m going to lock you in a cupboard until you get a grip.” She’s joking, but Erica doesn’t need to know that. She watches as Erica’s mouth drops open in shock at her bluntness. Resting her hands on her hips, and looking at her, she watches as the Governor fidgets in her designer heels.

“Nothing’s going on, I’m fine.” Erica tries to be reassuring, but as always, she doesn’t know quite how to approach Vera after they’d gotten off on the wrong foot when she’d first started. She’d assumed that Vera had simply been another officer and had told her to get on with her job rather than bother her on the first day when the woman had closed the door after everyone else had left her office.

Vera had icily informed her that she was Deputy Governor of Wentworth, and that she assumed that Erica knew the layout of the prison well enough on her own without her help. She’d then stalked out of the office, still in her pencil skirt and blazer at the time, leaving the door ajar and taking the satisfaction that Erica had needed to rise to her feet and close the door herself with her.

Erica had called her on the radio about an hour and a half later, quietly asking to meet her in the slot so that she could be shown around the prison and get used to it.

Vera had proven time and time again that she’d been a better governor than she was, even when she was only there as a step in whilst they hired her.

Erica still sees the steely glare that the Deputy had sent her way after she’d asked for an escort when the last lot of tension had built in Wentworth’s walls. She remembers feeling like a scolded child when Vera had bitingly pointed out that she had more than enough to do if she was insisting on adding extra duties to the officers.

“You can’t hide up here all day, Erica.” She stares at her, as the Governor dropped into her chair behind her desk. Vera sighs when the blonde doesn’t say anything in return, and the deputy doesn’t bother giving any kind of ‘goodbye’ as she walked out.

She left the door open again, too.

Erica sighs and rests her forehead on her desk.

* * *

The day passes fairly quickly with very little mayhem. The women are still buzzing with the news of the Top Dog having her hand shattered for no apparent reason. Jacs Holt is due back tomorrow after surgery on her hand and Vera’s talking with Bea about Debbie again when Will sticks his head out of one of the offices with an worried look on his face.

“Vera!” he barks down the corridor, urgency in his voice. She looks up, worried at his tone. “You gotta go, Joan’s outside in the car waiting for you.”

“What, why? I’m not due to finish for another hour and a half.” Bea is stood next to her, looking worried out of her mind. Her mind is thinking the worst.

“She didn’t say, but she sounds stressed. Said you’re both needed at the school.”

“Oh my God, it’s Debbie isn’t it?!” Bea’s panicked voice cuts through Vera’s confusion. She notices the redhead breathing erratically and Vera grasps her upper arms firmly.

“Bea, breathe. C’mon now. Breathe deep, that’s it. In. And out.” Vera deliberately makes eye contact with her. “I will go and see what’s going on. It could be that Debbie’s fallen or hurt herself playing gym today.”

Bea nods, grasping the deputy’s elbows.

“I’ll go and find out what’s happening, and then I’ll call and get one of the officers to let you know. Alright? Leave it to me. We’ve got her.”

Will quickly comes up to them, manoeuvring Bea away from the deputy and practically holding the ashen faced woman up as her knees tremble with worry for her child.

“I’m here till eleven, call for me and I’ll make sure to find you Bea, alright?” He nods at Vera who shoots him a grateful look.

Vera nods, and takes off running, even in her heels. She stops by her locker, grabbing her plastic pocket of her belongings and speeds out of the door, barely remembering to clock out. Sure enough, Joan is waiting at the front entrance, with the engine idling.

Vera notices that her hair is pulled back into a ponytail instead of the bun she’d had this morning, but her uniform is pristine as it was when she dropped her off this morning. Vera runs around the car, jumping into the passenger seat and she barely has time to click her seatbelt into place when Joan is already turning the car around and pulling towards the exit of the car-park.

“Debbie called, said that Brayden turned up at the gates when she was on her break.” Joan says shortly as they go the opposite way they’d driven this morning, on the way to Debbie’s school.

“Is she alright?!” 

“She ran inside, clever girl. But get this, Brayden looks like someone’s kicked the absolute shit out of him.”

Vera looks over as Joan nods whilst overtaking a car on the highway. “So you think..?” She trails off, gazing at the woman driving the car.

Joan knows exactly what she’s referring to. “I do, and I think they wanted to make sure that the message was clear to him. Apparently it wasn’t.”

With Joan pushing the legal limit of the speed limit on the highway, they’re pulling into the carpark of Debbie’s school in no time.

As they did this morning, they walk in together and find the teenager sat in one of the chairs at the reception, shaking like a leaf and paler than paper.

Vera immediately rushes forward, as Joan hangs back and looks out of the windows facing the gates of the school and she sees a slumped figure sat on the pavement opposite. Narrowing her eyes, she recognises the mess of blonde hair.

She pulls out her phone and texts someone. Vera can’t see who, but she knows that Joan will probably tell her later when they were in bed. The extravagant double bed they shared was the place where they unwound after the day, usually wrapped around each other as they talked.

Vera holds Debbie’s face in her hands, and she’s reassuring her that she did the right thing, just as they told her to do if she saw the nineteen year old. Joan comes over and brushes her hand over Debbie’s braid, and the sound of screeching tyres make all three of them look out of the window towards where Brayden had been sat ten minutes ago.

Vera feels a sense of deep satisfaction when she sees the blonde be manhandled into the back of a car, and his facial expression told her that he wasn’t happy about it. Within minutes, the car has rushed off down the street, turning the corner and disappearing out of sight.

Joan bends and gently grips Debbie’s chin, turning her face to look at her. “Want to go home, Debbie?”

Relieved, the teenager nods, and Vera stands, both to go and sign her out of class until tomorrow.

She returns to find Joan in the chair that she’s vacated, with Debbie tucked into her side with her face buried into the crook of her neck. All Joan does is rub her back, offering silent comfort.

Joan silently holds out her car keys, and Vera takes them, leaning over to press a tender kiss to her forehead. Quietly, Joan rises, making Debbie do the same, and together, they make their way towards the car. Joan has Debbie’s backpack slung over her shoulder, and she keeps a watchful eye as she bundles Debbie into the backseat of the car and then sits in the passenger seat.

They make their way home, Vera deliberately taking a more convoluted route, just in case.

Joan turns to look at Debbie, who’s staring out of the window.

“You still want to try the Studio tonight?”

Debbie blinks and then turns to look at her. Then, a determined glaze enters her eyes, and she nods once, with determination on her face.

“Definitely.”

Joan and Vera share a grin.

They’d go home, change into some clothes more suited for Debbie’s first session at the studio and they’d make sure that the teenager could handle herself in future if she needed to.

They aren’t expecting Debbie’s next question.

“Will you two teach me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for your support! <3 i always appreciate you lovely people! <3


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debbie gets a taste of the Studio and meets Kevin. 
> 
> Life falls into a routine for the most part, until it doesn't.

When they arrive at the Studio, Debbie loses some of her determination, as nerves cause her stomach to roll.

Vera notices.

“Hey,” She grasps her shoulders. “It’s just us here, and there is nothing to be worried about. Alright?”

Reassured, the teenager follows them into the building, where Kevin sits at his usual spot. When he sees the familiar women he jumps up, and launches himself over the lower end of the reception desk with a loud ‘WHOOP!’

“Where have you ladies BEEN!?” He’s enthusiastically hugging Joan and then Vera, and then spots Debbie, half hidden behind the taller woman. Smiling fondly at the man, she guides Debbie forward, and then rests her hands on her shoulders.

“Kevin, this is our Debbie. She’s going to be training here with us too.” Kevin immediately hugs her, causing the teenager to freeze, and then relax into the hug.

“She’s stunning! Where have you been hiding her?”

They explain how Debbie is living with them for the foreseeable future, and Kevin takes it all in his stride. He coaxes the teenager out of her shell with his easy smile, and funny jokes, and soon Debbie is laughing along with the other two women at Kevin’s antics.

“Okay, so I’ve set her up, Joanie. Here’s your card,” he hands over the plastic rectangle, “And then you’re free to go and do whatever you want! Well…within reason. What do teenagers even do nowadays? No necromancy in my studio, please. Or general witchery. I don’t keep sage in the first aid box if something goes wrong with that and I don’t do well in haunted places.”

Debbie dutifully promises to not perform witchcraft or bring back the dead in the studio, laughing as she does so.

They leave a smiling Kevin at his desk as they make their way to one of the sparring studios, the tension in Debbie’s shoulders has disappeared.

They start off easy, a simple palm punch to an assailants nose. Joan is patient as she explains why its effective, particularly in close range and gives the chance to flee. She demonstrates with Vera, pretending to grab her shoulders, and Vera carefully and slowly hits her palm in the centre of Joan’s face. They get Debbie to practice in slow-motion first, to get used to the way of striking at someone.

Then they get her to speed up. After twenty minutes, both Joan and Vera find themselves using carefully honed reflexes to avoid her hand, and heap praises on the teenager for picking it up so quickly. Debbie blushes, and asks if they can learn some more.

Joan turns her head to Vera and then gestures to the teenager, indicating that it’s her turn.

She’s stuck on what to teach her, until she gets a useful idea. “Alright, show me how you would throw a fist, Deb.” Vera instructs her, and the teenager shows her. With her hand closed into her first, Vera gently moves the thumb so that it rests on the outside of her fingers, rather than inside.

“Don’t ever have your thumb tucked in like that, you could break it if you actually punched someone full force.” She instructs. Seriously, Debbie nods and then opens and closes her hands into fists a few times to get used to not tucking her thumb in.

This time it’s Joan’s turn to be the training dummy. Vera shows Debbie to aim for the throat, rather than a person’s face. When Debbie asks why, it’s Joan who answers.

“You hit the throat hard enough and they’re going to struggle to breathe for a few moments. The time they’ll take to panic about breathing is the time you use to run away.”

Like before, Joan and Vera show her slowly first, and then full force. Thankfully, nobody ends up needing to remember how to breathe, and they carefully have Debbie try. She picks it up quickly, and the two women swap so she can get used to changing heights of different people. Soon enough, Joan and Vera are having to duck and dodge the smaller fists, although they do so with proud grins on their faces.

Satisfied, they stop and catch their breath. Then Vera remembers something and turns to Debbie with a serious look on her face.

“Be careful when you use the punch one, Debs. Seriously, I don’t want you using it if some girl tries to pick a fight. If you get cornered in a dangerous situation, by all means, rupture their trachea, but not in a school fight, okay?”

Debbie nods furiously. Its not like she goes around picking fights in school anyway. In school, she’s a mostly neutral party, known for her sewing and sticking to her own little group of friends and not looking for trouble. Amazingly, people at school respected that.

“However.” Joan stands next to Vera. “If you honestly find yourself in serious trouble in school and you _need_ to get away, use it.” Vera glares at her for going against her advice but then Joan raises her eyebrows. “Boys go to her school too, remember.”

Understanding immediately blooms on Vera’s face. She hadn’t thought of that. She didn’t like to think of Debbie potentially being in such a situation, but it did happen and it made her feel better knowing that their teenager wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Joan’s right. If you get to the point where you think you’re in serious trouble, use it. But not in the hair pulling and scratching kind of fights, love, alright?” Debbie nods, and promises.

“Can I watch you two fight?”

Surprised, the two women gaze at her for a moment, and then turn to each other.

“Think you can keep up?” Joan taunts, hand on her hip.

Vera gasps in mock-offence. “Loser buys tea.”

Joan smirks, and then looks at Debbie, motioning to the cushioned bench along the wall. “Sit, and don’t move, got it?” Excitedly, the teenager prances over, and sits cross-legged on the bench, waiting.

The two women stand six feet apart, and wait. One of them will start, but neither know who or how.

This time, it’s Vera.

She whips out her leg, aiming to knock Joan’s knee but the black haired woman steps back and quickly grabs the ankle with her left hand and moves forward, making Vera wobble on her other foot. With surprising gentleness, Joan holds the ankle and then places her right hand on the inside of Vera’s thigh and shoves.

Vera tries to stay upright but tumbles to the ground, guided by her girlfriend, who thinks now is an appropriate time to taunt her.

“Looks like dinner is on you.”

“Hm, not quite!” She yanks her leg out of Joan’s grip, and then with the other, she wraps both around Joan’s waist, and pulls her body backwards. Joan topples forward, nearly landing on top of the shorter woman, but stops by slamming a hand to the ground and holding her upper body off of Vera.

Vera, sensing that Joan was distracted in trying not to knock the wind out of her, uses her core strength to shoot into an upright position and pushes Joan down onto her back, with her legs still around her waist.

With a whoosh, Joan is on her back, breathing heavily as Vera rests her forearm across her chest and shoulder and wins the spar this time.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll buy tea.” She pouts, and Vera can’t help but grin at her and press a gentle kiss to Joan’s lips with a chuckle.

“That was AWESOME!” Debbie’s cheering from her spot on the bench, and she hadn’t moved a muscle as she’d watched the two. “I want to be able to do that!”

Vera has stood, and offered her hand to Joan who has used it to get to her feet as well. They laugh at the teenager’s enthusiasm, and Joan spares a look at her watch, realising that they’d need to be heading home.

“What take out are we having?” She asks, intending to pick it up on the way home so that they wouldn’t need to leave the apartment again. Debbie bounces on her toes a little, and Vera eyes her curiously.

“Could we have…nuggets?”

“Nuggets?” Joan raises her eyebrow at her.

“And fries…from Mcdonalds?”

Joan blinks at her and Vera stifles her laughter. She doesn’t think Joan actually eats fast food considering that she enjoys cooking so much and the take out places that she orders from have proven their consistency in selling good food which is why she’ll stick to the same places.

“You want Mcdonalds?”

“Well…only if you’re okay with it. You know what, it’s fine, forget I said anything, it doesn’t matter. I…” She’s rambling, feeling guilty for suggesting it, and Joan recognises what that feels like and she knows for a fact that so does Vera. She encases Debbie’s hands in her own, feeling the tense fingers beneath her palms and she bends slightly so that she can look her in the eye.

“Mcdonalds sounds like just the thing after a day like today.”

Debbie’s answering grin is enough for the both of them.

Which is how they came to be all crowded onto the sofa in the living room, with three bags each with their meals, and their drinks on the coffee table. Vera gives up in the end, and they simply rip open all three of the bags and lay them on the table. There’s copious portions of large fries, a box of 20 nuggets to share, a box of chicken strips, wedges, three Big Macs and there’s three Mcflurry’s in the freezer waiting for them, if they have any stomach space left.

They have a show about competing drag queens on the tv that Debbie had begged to watch with them, and when Joan had questioned why, she’d explained that she loved to see the designs they made at the end of each episode for the runways.

So, they sit there, munching on their drive thru food, and judging each outfit that’s created. They laugh, they frown and the tension of the day is dissolved.

So when Debbie is eating her ice cream, Vera dials the number for Wentworth and gets through to Will. She’s checked the time, and Bea must be in the cafeteria right now which means that she can come to the phone. Will is relieved to hear that Debbie is alright, and simply puts the phone down on the desk as he grabs Debbie’s mum.

Silently handing the phone to the teenager on the sofa, she smiles and nods at her as Joan wanders around, cleaning any rubbish and excess food away.

Bea’s voice is frantic when she comes on the phone.

“ _Miss Bennett? Is Debbie okay? She’s not, is she? Oh no…”_

“Mum! I’m okay!”

“ _Debbie? Thank fuck you’re alright! What the hell happened?!”_

So Debbie recounts the entire day to her mother, from the incident that had Vera rushing off to her school, to ending the day sitting on the sofa and watching Rupaul’s Drag Race.

“ _I like the fact that you’ll be able to defend yourself, love. It makes me feel a little better.”_

“I know, that’s what Joan and Vera said.”

“ _Then they’re talking sense.”_

“I love you, mum.”

“ _I know darlin’. I love you to the moon and back. I’ve got to go, I’ll call you tomorrow about six?”_

Debbie nods enthusiastically, then remembers that Bea cant see her. “I’ll be here. Love you!” 

“ _Love you! Behave! Bye.”_

Debbie presses the end button and fidgets until she can lean on Vera who’s sat down next to her. Joan finishes whatever she’s doing in the kitchen, and sinks into the sofa on Vera’s other side, and the woman leans into her.

So until half nine in the evening, they spend their time watching multiple episodes of Drag Race and judging each one. Joan adamantly professed Bianca Del Rio as her favourite for Season 6, but Vera loved Courtney Act and loudly proclaimed that she would win. Debbie had to hide her grin, due to knowing exactly who would win the season, and thought it would be funnier to hide the result. It would also give her a reason to sit with them again, relax and watch the show through to the end. She liked it. It was nice to be able to just relax completely, not walking on eggshells that someone would flip out over nothing or feeling that nauseous twisting sensation that happened when you sensed that you had done something wrong but couldn’t pinpoint what.

Here, at home with Joan and Vera there was none of that. There was only friendly banter, and a lot of physical affection. When they were sat together, Debbie had noticed that Vera and Joan were always touching in some way. Even if it was only that their thighs were pressed against each other as they lounged on the sofa, they were in sync.

She made sure to hug the both of them before she went for a shower and to bed, squeezing tightly to each of them.

They bid her goodnight, and switched the tv off as Joan tucked her head into the crook of Vera’s shoulder.

“You know,” Vera murmured huskily, knowing that Joan can hear her. “If you cant quite get used to getting it on with Debbie in the house for now, I just thought that you should know that she won’t be able to hear anything whilst she’s in the shower.”

Joan is off the sofa like a shot, with Vera following closely after, laughing the entire way to the bedroom.

* * *

They are laying in each other’s arms, forty five minutes later when they hear the shower turn off and the bathroom door open.

They giggle together like schoolgirls, hidden beneath the duvet.

“We’ll have to get used to it whilst she’s home.” Vera points out in a humoured whisper. “Besides, these walls are quite thick, I honestly don’t think she’ll hear anything.”

“Let’s give her some time to actually settle in before we start fucking up against any walls, Vera.” Joan’s serious tone is ruined by the filthy grin on her face. “So, shower?”

It’s Vera’s turn to shoot up from the bed, throwing back the duvet and rushing to the en-suite, beckoning Joan with a sultry grin and crooking her finger.

* * *

The next day starts the exact same way as the last, with a prepacked lunch tucked into Debbie’s bag, and with three pairs of shoes by the door.

They drop her off again, waving goodbye from the car window this time, watching out for any blonde Holt’s, but he doesn’t appear. Joan pulls away from the kerb, satisfied.

As she did the day before, Joan drops off Vera who says goodbye with a searing kiss and grin.

She comes across Bea walking towards the library and the redhead doesn’t talk to her, but nods her head and offers a grateful grin. Vera just smiles kindly in return, what else can she do? There isn’t exactly a system to say ‘ _Thank you for looking after my child whilst I’m waiting for a court date in prison for trying to kill my abusive asshole of a husband_.’

Franky corners Bea later in the afternoon.

“What the hell is making you so twitchy, Red?”

Bea rolls her eyes, settling down into her seat at the table outside.

“How’s Debbie, love?” Liz kindly asks her and sighing, Bea thinks that she might as well tell them.

“She’s okay. She’s got temporary guardians while I’m in here because Harry’s a useless bastard.” Most of the table stares at her, surprised by her honest candour. “One of them is Miss Bennett.”

Now THAT got their attention.

“Miss Bennett?”

“Really?”

“Is she settled with her?”

“You said one, Red.” Franky crosses her arms and stares at her. “Who’s the other one?”

“It’s her girlfriend.”

The women stared at her for a moment, until Frankly blows out a breath.

“Well I didn’t expect that.”

“Look, I don’t give a fuck that Miss Bennett works here, I care about the fact that my daughter is safe, settled with good people while I’m stuck in here and she’s not hanging around the wrong sort.” She looks over Franky’s shoulder at the injured Top Dog sat along the furthest wall, her hand in a cast.

One of Franky’s girls had taken the flack for that, ending up with a charge and would probably get more time for it too. But Franky had chosen one of the women who were better off inside, if they got out they’d go back to shitty drugs and doing whatever it took to get them.

“Well, it’s good that she’s safe and being looked after isn’t it?” Doreen smiles at Bea, whilst Liz glares at Franky. The black haired women rolls her eyes.

“Liz, I’m not going to flip over the fact that Red’s little girl is being looked after by Miss Bennett.” She retorts. “I’m not fucking evil, alright?”

Boomer, not liking the tension, diverts the conversation to another topic and the rest of them all jump on it.

* * *

So the weeks continue on.

Phone calls every evening, on the dot at 6pm, and visits twice a week. After three weeks of blissful normalcy, Joan and Vera discuss the possibility of Debbie catching the school bus to go and come home from school, which she gleefully jumps at. The spot where the bus would drop her off with the other kids was immediately opposite the apartment building, and the teenager had a key and a keyfob to get into the building. One of her friends lived in the building next to theirs, so they would both walk together across the road until they reached their respective buildings. All this made Vera, Joan and Bea happier with her safety.

They make the agreement that if she sees Brayden to stay with other people, and if she can, to run into the school like she did before. She’d call for either of them for help, and if it came to it, to call the police as well. The school was aware of the situation, although Joan had described it more as a young man that wouldn’t take the hint that his advances weren’t welcomed. The headmistress had understood perfectly, and had put in place a protocol if something happened.

So the next three weeks passed in the same way. Debbie would catch the bus to school, before Joan and Vera left for work, but would have about an hour by herself in the apartment, before Joan or Vera would get home in the afternoon. She’d spend the time sat at her sewing machine, with some music in the background of her bedroom. She stuck to the rules she’d been given religiously, and Joan often helped with her math homework, and somehow her way of explaining made algebra seem less daunting.

She still had calls off her mother every night, and she visited twice a week, in the afternoon. She’d catch the bus, which was on the same route and get off down the street from Wentworth and Vera would meet her in the reception to sign her in.

Often Bea would help Debbie with any homework she had during the visit, feeling happier as she saw with her own eyes as her daughter’s grades got better each week.

It was a nice routine. 

* * *

It’s her second visit of the week when Debbie is led in by Linda, who she knows by fairly well by now. Linda would never admit to it, but she had a soft spot for the polite and curly haired teenager that had been taken under Vera’s wing. She was soft-spoken, mostly and Bea always thanked her after she’d been taken back to her unit.

Debbie is already sat with her mother, going through chapter seven and eight of _Jane Eyre,_ and criticising it, notes spread around them on the table.

“I just prefer Jane Austen, Mum. Her writing just feels easier to read.”

“I know, but do you think it’s to do with the time she was writing? Jane Austen wrote _Pride and Prejudice_ first when she was twenty. Maybe that comes through.” Bea can’t stand Austen, but had enjoyed _Jane Eyre_ in school, and remembers enough of it to help her daughter find a critical part of it to grab onto.

“Maybe? I know Austen was before Charlotte Bronte but maybe the difference…” She trails up as her eyes flick up to the newest visitors that were led into the room. Brayden Holt is trailing after an older, balding man, both sporting still purple bruises on their faces. He doesn’t notice her there, focused on the table right at the back where Jacs Holt sits. Her eyes quickly flick over the matriarch, noticing the hand in plaster, and the angry look she has on her face.

Debbie casts her eyes back down to the notes in front of her, along with the copy of Jane Austen’s _Pride and Prejudice_ and _Jane Eyre_. She can’t hear what’s being said at the furthest table, and she doesn’t want to, so she enjoys the time she has with her mother, debating the two books until their time is up. When she has to, the teenager shuffles the notes back into their plastic wallet, and places the two books carefully on top with her pens. Her backpack is in a locker back in the reception area, but she’s allowed her schoolwork and pen, but Linda will have to check the pen on the way out to make sure none of it has been broken off. Debbie simply rolls with it, not really having any other choice.

Bea squeezes her tightly as they hug goodbye, Debbie turning her face into her neck and inhaling the smell that is quintessentially her mother.

“Don’t get into trouble, please? No fighting, no dumb stuff.” She asks, and Bea pulls back, and strokes her cheek softly.

“I promise I’ll keep my head down, Deb. Promise.” She kisses her daughter’s forehead and hugs her once more. “Call you tonight?”

Debbie nods. “Love you.”

Linda comes up to them, as she does whenever it’s the end of the visit. Due to Debbie’s age, she has to walk her into the visitation room, and back out to whoever is there to collect her. Whoever is on duty for visitation does it, but its usually Will or Linda. The creepy guard that had been there the first time she’d come with Joan and Vera hadn’t been there again.

Debbie collects her things, and Bea walks towards the door with the large red ‘RESTRICTED’ sign, and waves one final time as she turns the corner.

Linda leads her out, asking how she’s settled back into school, and Debbie humours her, answering her question.

Vera is waiting for her in the reception, her little plastic pocket under her arm, and she smiles when she sees her.

“Ready to go?”

Debbie nods, going to collect her things from the locker as Linda makes conversation with Vera, still trying to find out who’s her other half. Vera never tells her, but that doesn’t stop Linda from trying.

Brayden Holt doesn’t look up when she leaves, too busy being berated by his mother as his father sits next to him after receiving a similar tongue lashing.

* * *

“Your daughter is quite the clever little thing, isn’t she?” The voice is behind Bea as she sits in the library with a copy of Jane Eyre, determined to help her daughter on her homework. Next week it will be To Kill a Mockingbird, and she has a copy of that next to her on the desk.

She stiffens, hearing the Top Dog behind her.

“She enjoys the classics, yeah.” Bea doesn’t elaborate. She’s polite, but she won’t offer any detail that the Top Dog can grasp onto. “How’s the hand?”

“Still shattered.” Jacs slips into the hard plastic chair next to the redhead. “You know, I think she’d get on well with my son.”

 _Fuck off._ Bea thinks, but shakes her head. “Nah, Debbie’s not really into the boy stage yet.”

The both of them know what’s not being said. _Keep your son away from my daughter._

“Well, she’s mature for her age. I’m sure they’d suit.”

“Yeah, well. Like I said, she’s not there yet.” There’s a harsh tone in Bea’s voice now, and she repeats Debbie’s words in her head like a mantra. _No fighting, no dumb stuff. Keep your head down._

“Hm, I’m sure she’s concentrating on school for now.”

“Yep, big exams coming up in a few months.” Bea doesn’t know when Debbie’s exams are scheduled, she doesn’t know if she even has them in her year, but she just wants the Top Dog to go away without making her lose her temper. She turns a page in her book deliberately, not saying anything further. Jacs, realising that she’ll get nothing more out of the redhead, rises and places her hand on Bea’s shoulder.

The redhead stiffens.

“If your Debbie is struggling with school, let me know. Brayden was an excellent tutor in his school last year.”

Bea only nods with a tight lipped smile. She just wanted Jacs to go away.

The woman walks away a moment later, taking her two person posse with her.

_Fuck,_ Is all Bea can think. She’s been on remand long enough to know what’s just happened. Jacs was warning her that she has her eye on Debbie, more so than before.

Fuck.

* * *

The phone call that evening is different than normal.

Bea asks to speak to Joan or Vera first. Vera was in the shower, so Debbie held out the phone to Joan with a small ‘Mum wants to talk to you first,’ and then hands it over. She holds out her arm for Debbie to tuck herself into her side as she spoke to her mother, knowing how the teenager would worry.

“Bea? What’s the matter?”

“ _Is Brayden Holt still a problem for my daughter?”_ There’s ice in Bea’s tone, and Joan doesn’t appreciate it.

“No. We’ve not seen hide nor hair of him for nearly a month.” Joan lets her own icy tone sink in, before continuing. “Are you doubting that we can keep Debbie safe, Bea?”

“ _No! Not at all! It’s just…well it’s…”_ Bea’s tone switches to nervous after the answer from Joan. She’s suddenly reminded very quickly that both women that are Debbie’s guardians are very capable women and are currently working towards getting Debbie confident in herself, helping her education and her skill at The Studio and encouraging her sewing. These are not the women to be getting an attitude with. “ _His mother said some stuff earlier, made me worry a little bit.”_

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” At hearing the normal voice of the redhead, Joan drops her own tone. “Listen, there’s multiple plans in place to keep Debbie safe, Bea. And we’re teaching her ways to defend herself that she’s picking up quickly. Whatever his mother is telling you, is bluster. Don’t completely dismiss it, but don’t take it for pure gospel either. Most of the games played in prisons are mental. Don’t let it get to you too much.”

“ _I know, but I worry. Thank you.”_

Joan reassures her some more, and then hands the phone wordlessly to Debbie after saying goodbye. The teenager natters on endlessly into the phone, not moving from Joan’s side , discussing her latest project using the pretty lilac silk she’d found online that she’d convinced Vera to order. 

When the teenager comes off the call, Vera appears next to her, in her robe and a towel wrapped around her hair with a giant mug of hot chocolate in her hand with whipped cream and a marshmallow on the top. She hands it over to Debbie with a smile, who offers her a blinding grin in return, taking the mug.

The week ends calmly, with the end of the week signally a full month since they last saw the blonde annoyance known as Brayden Holt.

Bea reads through Jane Eyre until the next visit with her daughter, four days away, and makes her own notes in her notepad, eager to help her daughter understand as much as possible. She even manages to speak to one of the old timers, who was an English teacher before she’d been arrested for murder. She offers some standpoints that Bea makes a note of. In the evenings, she reads To Kill a Mockingbird, ready for when Debbie will start it.

They all should have known that the calm wouldn’t last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deb's is a real creative kid ain't she? 
> 
> I've got my mojo back, you guys! I've started physically writing out my plot points for each chapter and it's really helping. 
> 
> As always, any kudos and comments are always appreciated <3 thank you lovely people for your support of this :D


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